Ws 4
4-44
+
-»
—
—
*
- -
by
>
it
++++4+
—
IT
$+$+4++3+
$$$+++++ $+
$4 $44 +++
.
$+44++ +$+4
1411111!
by
17
144
=
41140454
© 4
2227
! "
++ +
=
04
DS
$44 ++
$343493$445 5 bo
$4+++ +8
55
04
+$++++p++
1421
+
.
*
$$++$+ +4
3
.
+y
*
$4 $64 +++ +
— 7
$+ +4 +>
**
$+ + +$4++
+ +4 **
1
+++ nl
++
++
*
- —
— —ä—3 E — = roo
-
.
1
1
6
.
+$+4++
++
$4 44-4
+$++++ +$+$++++
.
+++ —
*
—— *
MM
1441 47
44 „ „„
nz,
'
1
$44 $134 $444 $414
$440 + $+444++4+++
$£r24#t114 +++
10
:
$4444 $*++144
|
-
—
:
:
1494 Ft
rr
2 *
111
rr
itte
3334
—
;
+++ 1 ++
terte zin
*
++
1
+ -
——
+*- —
. :
+. 1
*- |
*
"
——
++
-
— ++
+ + SÞ »
.
— 7
——
— *4.
— -+ 4+
——
—
—
— mn
$44 Z
2: 3h
— +46
++ +
+ s
» 4-4 n
+++ :
++
” 4
++
+4
—
-— 45
5 +,
—
+
+ #4
— IL
-——- 1
—
* *
++
- .
: |
»+
44
* 10
17 I
+4
1
471
+4
++
— 9
+ +
444,
$4.4
444
—
.
: .
*+
— +4
2 +44
—
+4
" 5
14
Us 44 5
—
* 251
— "Ot
=P +4
* IT
—
1 5
+4 +
+4
wi
+3
++
*
+ 6
-
4 17
++ "+
* +4
9 4+ +
*
—_ 7
4 *+
i $44
4 :
1
++
— 7
+ +4
$44
*7 4
*
--
—
4
—
*
rr
ND
— —
*
11141 |
| |
1
181
4. H. -
C ND e
MUCH AD O
T 7 — 1 - :
11
*
:
D 5 *
ABOUT
NOTHING.
_—
— r
By Mr. WILLIAM SHAKES PEAR.
EQN&@0QN:t
Printed for J. ToxNSON, and the reſt of the
PROPRIETORS; and ſold by the Bookſellers
of London and Weſtnainſter.
MDCCXXXIV.
Dramatis Perſonæ.
DON PEDRO Prince of Arragon.
Leonato, Governor of Meſſina:
Don John, Baſtard- Brother to Don Pedro.
Claudio, a young Lord of Florence, Favorite to Den
Pedro.
Benedick, a young Lord of Padua, fatourd likewiſe by
Don Pedro,
Balthafar, Servant to Don Pedro,
Antonio, Brother ts Leonato,
Borachio, Confident to Don John,
Coarade, Friend 30 Borachio.
— 7 © two fooliſh Officers,
Inrogen, Wife to Leonato,
Hero, Daughter to Leonato and lanoges.
Beatrice, Neice 10 Leonato,
Margaret,
8 two ba A .
9 G ttending on Hero.
A Eiar, Meſſenger, Watch, Town-Clerk, Sextan,
and Attendants.
SCENE Meſina.
The Story from Ariolto, Orl. Fur. J x.
Wass uch
ch
j mach glad ot it.
. NEL
A Court before Leonato's Houſe.
Enter Leonato, Innogen, Hero ad PLeatrice with
a Meſſenger.
LEEONA-TS,
Learn in this letter, that Dan Pedro of
Arragon eres this nipht to Melſſca.
Mefſ. Ne is very near by this; he was
not three ſexprrsr & when 1 1 tt him.
= Leer. Hoiw many gentlemen hive
you Iſt in this acti en?
Me. But few ot any fort, and none
of name.
Leon. A v ctory is twice it f{-If, when the archizver
brings home full numbers; I find here that Dan Pedro
hath beſtowed much honour on a young Florentine, Cali'd
Claudio.
Meſſ. Much deferved on his part, and equilly re-
membred by Don Pedro: he hath bon himſelt beyoad
the promiſe of his age, roirg in the fi; ure of a lambthe
feats of a lion: he hath 1:4deed better cetter'd expect
tion, than you mult expe ot me ro te] you how,
Leon. He hath an uncle here in M wil: be yery
A 2 Me.
4 Moch Apo about NoTHING.
Meſſ. 1 have already delivered him letters, and there
appears much joy in him, even ſo much, that joy could
not ſhew it ſelt modeſt enough, without a badge of
bitterneſs.
Leon. Did he break out into tears?
Meg. In great meaſure.
Leon. A kind overflow of kindneſs; there are no
faces truer than thoſe that are ſo waſh'd; how much
better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at weeping ?
Beat. | pray you, is Signior Montanto return'd from
the wars or no ?
Me. I know none of that, name, Lady; there was
none ſuch in the army of any ſort.
Leon, What is he that you ask for, neice ?
Hero. My couſin means Signior Bexedick of Padua,
Aleſſ. O he's return'd, and as pleafant as ever he
Was.
Beat. He ſet up his bills here in Af, and chal-
leng*d Cuptd at the flight; and my uncle's fo] readin
the challeuge, ſubſcrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd him at
the bird-bcle, I pray you, bow many hath he kill'd
and eaten in theſe wars? but how many hath he kill'd?
for indeed I promiſe to eat all of his killing.
Leon. Faith, neice, you tax Signior Benedicktoo much;
but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not.
Meſſ. He hath done good ſervice, Lady, in theſe
Wars.
Beat. You bad muſty victuals, and he hith help to
eat it; he's a very valiant treacher-man, he hath an ex-
cellent ſtomach.
Meſſ. And a good ſoldier too, Lady.
Beat, And a good ſoldier to a lady? but what is he
to a lord?
Meſſ. A lord to a lord, a man to a man, ſtuſt with
s}] houourable virtues.
Beat. It is fo indeed, he is no leſs than a ſtuft man:
but for the ſtuffing well, we are all mortal.
Leen. You muſt not, Sir, miſtake my neice; there
is a kind of merry war, betwixt Signior Benedick and
her; they never meet, but there's a skirmiſn of wit be-
tween them.
Boat
Py, oe TY
Mucu Apo about NOTHING. 5
Bear, Alac, te pers nothing by that. In our liſt con-
fl ct, four of his five wirs went baiting off, am now is
the whole min govern'd with one: So that, if he have
wit enough to keep h:mſe'f warm, let him bear it for a
diffi rence between himfelt and his horſe, for it is zii the
wealth that he hath left, to be known a reaſonable crea-
ture. Who is his companion now ? he hatb every month
a new {worn brother.
Me,. ls it poſſible ?
Beat, Very calily poſſible; he wears his faith but as
the faſhion of his hat, it ever changes with the r.ext
Ick.
Meſſ. 1 ſee, Lady, the gentleman is not in your books,
Beat. No; if he were I weuld burn my ſtudy. But
I pray you who is his companion? is there no young
ſquarer now, that will make a voyage with him to the
devil?
Meſſ. He is moſt in the company of the right noble
Claudio.
Beat. O lord, he will hang upon bim like a diſeaſe;
he is ſooner czught than the peſtilence, and the taker
runs preſen'ly mad. God help the noble Claudio, it he
have caught the | B&zedick, it will colt him a thouland
pound ere it be curd,
Me ſſ. I will hold friends with you Lady.
Beat. Do good friend,
Leon, You'll neer run mad, neice,
Beat No, not 'till a hot January.
" Mef. Don Pedro is approach'd.
Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedics, Balthazar and
Don John,
Pedro. Good Sipnior Leonato, you are come to meet
your trouble: the taſhion of the world is to avoid colt,
and you encounter it.
Leon. Never came trouble to my houſe in the like-
neſs of your Grace; for trouble being gone, comfort
mould remain; but when you depart from me, ſorrow
abides, and happineſs takes his leave.
Pedro. You embrace your charge moſt willingly; I
think this is your daughter.
Leon. Her mother hath many times told me ſo.
Bene, Were you in doubt, that you ask'd her ?
A I Leos
—
70 hath invited you all; I tell him we ſhall ſtay he re
6 Moch Apo abut NorHIN SG.
Leon, Signior Benedick, no, for then were you a
child,
Pedro, You have it full Benedick, you may gueſs by
this what you are, being a man: truly the lady fa-
thers her ſelf; be happy, lady, for you are like an ho-
nourable tather.
Bene, If Signior Leonato be her father, ſhe would
rot have his head on her ſhoulders for ail Afeſina, as
L.ke him as ſhe is.
Bear. 1 wonder that you will ſtill be talking, Sigriior
Beredick, no body marks you. |
cre, What, my dear lady Diſdain! are you yet
living? |
cut, Is it poflible diſdain ſhould die, while ſhe
bath inch meet jood to feed it, 2s Signior Benedick ?
courte y it ſelf mult convert to diſdain, if you come
in her preſence,
Bene. hen is courteſy a turn-coat ; but it is cer-
tz'n 1 am lov'd of all ladies, only you excepted; and
1 would } could find in mv heart that 1 had not a
hard heart, for truly 1 love none
Beat. A dear happineis to women, they would elſe
have been troubled with a pernicious ſuitor. I thank
Cad and my cold blood, 1 am of your humour for
chit, I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than
a man ſwear he loves me.
Bene. God Keep vour lady ſhip ſtill in that mind, ſo
ſome gentiemen or other ſhall ſcape a predeſtinate
Icratcht face.
Beat, Scratching could not make it worſe, if 'twere
ſuch a face as yours were,
Rene, Well you are a rare parrot teacher,
Beat. A bird of my tongue is better than a beaſt of
yours. |
Bene. I would my horſe had the ſpeed of your
tongue, and {0 good a continuer; but keep your way
a God's name, I have done.
Beat. You always end with a jade's trick, I know
ou of old.
Pedro. This is the ſum of all: Teonato, Signior
Claud io, and Signior Benedick; my dear friend Leona-
ac
—
# *
Muck Apo about NOTHING. 7
at the leaſt a month, and he heartily prays ſome oc-
caſion may detain us longer: I dare ſwear he is no
hypocrite, but prays from his heart.
Leon, If you ſwear, my lord, you ſha!) not be for-
ſworn, Let me bid you welcome. my lord, being
reconciled to the prince your brother; I owe you all
duty. |
John. I thank you, I am not of many words, but
IT thank you.
Leon. Pleaſe it your grace lead on?
Pedro. Your hand Le:nato, we Will go together.
Exennt all but Benedick and Claudio,
Claud. Bencdic, didſt thou note the daughter of
Signior Leonato? ch
Pere, I noted her not, but I look'd on her,
Claud. Is ſhe not a modeſt young lady?
Bene. Do you queſtion me, as an honeſt man ſhonſd
do, for my ſimple true judgment? or would you have
nie ſpeak after my cuſtom, as being a profeſſed tyrant
to their ſex?
Claud. No, I pry'thee {peak in fober judgment.
Bene. Why u i'jaith methinks fhe is too low for an
high praiſe, too brown for a fair praiſ, and too lit-
tle for a great praiſe; only this commendati n I can
ford her. that were ſhe other than ſhe is, the were
unhandſome; and being no other but as ſhe is, 1 do
not like her,
Claud. Thou think'ſt I am in ſport, I pray thee
tell me truly how thou lik'ſt her.
1 Bane. Would you buy her, that you enquire after
er ?
Claud. Can the world buy ſuch a jewel?
Bene, Yea, anda caſe to put it into; but ſpeak you
this with a ſad brow? or do you play the flouting
jack, to tell us Cupid_is a good hare-finder, and Vut-
can a rare carpenter? come, in what key ſhall a man
take you, to go in the ſong ? | |
Claud In mine eye, ſhe is the ſweeteſt lady that 1
ever look'd on,
Bene. 1 car\ſee yet without ſpeQacles, and I ſee no
ſuch matter; there's her couſin, if ſhe were not poſ-
{eſt with ſuch a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty,
| A 4 as
— —
—
8 Much ADo about NorHIN S.
as the firſt of May doth the laſt of December: but 1
hepe you have nv intent to turn husband, have you?
Claud. would ſcarce truſt my ſelf, though I had
{worn the contrary, it Hero would be my wife.
Bene. Is't come to this, in faith? hath not the world
one man, but he will wear his cap with ſuſpicion ?
ſhall I never ſee a batchelor of threeſcore again? go
to 1'faith, if thou wilt needs thruſt thy neck into a
yoke, wear the print of it, and figh away Sundays :
look Don Pedro is return'd to ſeek you.
Re-enter Don Pedro and Don john.
Pedro. What ſecret hath held you here, that yeu fol-
low'd not to Leonato's houſe ?
Bene, I would your Grace would conſtrain me to tel},
Pedro, I charge thee on thy allegiance.
Bene. You hear, Count Claudio, I cannot be ſecret
as a dumb man, I would have you think ſo; but on
my allegiance» mark you this, on my allegiance, he
is in love; with whom? now that is your Grace's
part: mark how ſhort his anſwer is, with Hero, Leo»
#aio's Inoit daughter,
Claud. If this were fo, ſo were it uttered,
Bene. Like the old tale, my lord, it is not ſo, nor
*twas not ſo; but indeed, God forbid it ſhould be ſo.
Claud. If my paſſion change not ſhortly, God for-
bid it ſhould be otherwiſe.
Pedro. Amen, if you love her, for the Lady is ve-
ry well worthy.
Claud, You ſpeak this to fetch me in, my Lord,
Pedro, By my troth I ſpeak my thought.
Claud. And in faith, my Lord, I ſpoke mine,
Bene. And by my two faiths and troths, my Lord,
I ſpeak mine. |
Claud. That I love her, I feel.
Pedro. That ſhe is w« rthy, I know.
Bene, That I neither feel how ſhe ſhould be loved,
nor know how ſhe ſhould be worthy, is the opinion
that fire cannot, melt out of me; I will die in it at
the ſtake,
Pedro. Thou waſt ever an obſtinate heretick ia the
deſpight of beauty.
|
{
'
ou?
had
T6
Moch Apo about NorHING. 9
Claud. And never could maintain his part, but in
the force of his will. :
Bene. That a woman conceived me, | thank her ;
that ſhe brought me up, I likewiſe give her molt hum-
ble thanks: but that I will have a recheate winded in
my forehead, or hang my bugle in an invitible vald-
rick, all women ſhall pardon me; becauſe I will not
do them the wrong to miſtruſt any, I will do my
felf the right to truſt none; and the fine is, for the
which I may go the finer, 1 will live a bitchelor,
Pedro, I ſhall ſee thee, ere I die, look pale with love.
Bene, With anger, with ſickneſs, or with hunger,
my lord, not with love: prove that ever I lofe more
blood with love, than 1 will get again with drinking,
n out mine eyes with a b llad-maker's pen, and
ang me up at the door of a brothel-houſe for the
ſign of blind Cupid.
Pedro. Well, if ever thou doſt fall from this faith,
thou wilt prove a notab'e argument.
Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat, ard
thoot at me, and he that hits me, let him be clapt on
the ſhoulder, and call'd 4dam.
Pedro, Well, as time ſhall try; in time the ſavage
bull doth bear the yoke.
Bene. The ſavage bull may, but if ever the ſenſible
Benedic bear it, pluck off the bull's-horns, and fer
them in my forchead, and let me be vile'y painted;
and in ſuch great letters as they write, Here is good
Horſe to hire, let them ſignifie under my fign, Here
you may ſee Benedick the marry'd man.
Claud. If this ſhould eyes happen, thou would'ſt
be horn-mad.
Pedro. Nay, if Cupid hath not ſpent all his quiyer
in Venice, thou wilt quake for this ſhortly,
Bene. I look ſor an earthquake too them
Pedro, Well, you will temporize with the hours; in
the mean time, good Signior Benedich, repair to Leo-
#ato's, Commend me to him, and tel him I will nat
fail him at ſupper, ſor indeed he haty mide great p1 e-
paration.
Bene. J have almoſt matter enough in me fob ſuch
an ambaſſage, and ſo I commit you,
A 3 Claud.
109 Mvuvcn Apo about Nor HIN.
Claud. To the tuition of God, From my houſe, if
I had it,
Fedro. The ſixth of July, your loving friend, Be-
zi dick,
Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not; the body of your
diſcourſe is ſometime guarded with fragments, and the
guards are but flightly baſted on neicher: ere you
flout old ends any further, examine your con{cience,
and fo [ leave you. Exit.
Claud. My Liege, your hi. hneſs now may do me good.
Pedro, My love is thine to teach, teach it but how,
And thau ſhalt ſee how apt i is to learn
Any hard leflon that may da thee good.
Claud. Rath Leonato any ſon, my lord?
Fedro, No child but Hero, ſhe's his only heir:
Doſt thou affect her, Claudio?
Claud. O my lord,
When you went onward on this ended action
1 look'd upon her with a ſoldier's eye,
That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand
Than to drive liking to the name of love;
Þut now I am return'd, and that war-thoughts
Have left their places vacant ; in their rooms
Come thronging ſoft and delicate deire:,
All prompting me how fair young Zerg is,
Saying Ihk, her ere | went to wars,
Pedro, Thou wilt be like a Jover preſently,
And tire the hearer with a book of words :
Ii thou Coft love fair Hero, cheriſh it,
And 1'il break with her: was't not to this end,
That thou began'ſt o twilt fo fine a ſtory ?
Claud. Huw ſweetly do you miniſter to love,
That know love's grief by his comple ction!
But leſt my liking might too ſudden ſcem,
1 would have ſalv'd it with a longer treatiſe,
Periro, What reed the bridge much broader than
the flood ?
The faireſt grant is the neceſſity;
Lock what will ſerve, is fit; *tis once thou loyeſt,
And I will fit thee with the remedy,
know we [hall have revelliog to-night,
1 wiil aſſume thy part in ſome diſguile,
Ard
a
Moc Apo about NoTHING. 11
And tell fair Hero I am Claudio,
And in her boſom I'll unclaſp my heart,
And take her hezring priſoner with the force
And ſtrong ercount:r of my amorous tale:
Then after to ber father will L break,
And the concluſion is, ſhe {hall be thine ;
In practice let us put it prefently, [HFxxunt.
Re-enter Leonato and Antonio.
Leon, How now brother, where is my couſin your
ſon? hath he provided this muſick ? |
Ant. He is very buſy about it; but brother, I can
tell you news that you yet dreani”d not of.
Leon. Are they good ?
Ant. As the event ſtamps them, but they have 2
good cover; they ſhow well outward. The Prince
and Count Claudio, walking in a thick pleached alley
in my orchard, were thus over-heard by a man or
mine: the Prince diſcoyer'd to Claudio that he lov'd
my neice your daughter, and meant to ackuowledge
it this night in a dance; and if he found her accors:
dent, meant to take the preſent time by the top, and
inſtantly break with you of it.
Leon. Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?
Ant. A good ſharp fellow, I will ſend for him, and
queſtion him your ſelf.
Leon. No, no; we will hold it as a drerm, *till it
appear it ſelf; but I will acquaint my daughter with
all, that ſhe may be the better prepared for anſwer,
if peradventure this be true; go you and tell her of
it: couſins, you know what you have t@ do. O, I
cry you mercy, friend, go you with me and I will
uſe your skill; good couſin have a care this buſie
time, | Exeunt,.
Finter Den ſohn and Conrade.
Cour, What the good year my lord, why are you.
thus out of meaſure (ad } |
John, There is no meaſure in the occaſion that
breeds, therefore the ſadneſs is without limir,
Conr. You ſhould hear reaſon,
Fohn. And when 1 have heard it, what. bleſſing:
bringeth it ? |
Cour. If not a preſent remedy, yet a patient fat»
feranse. un.
12 Moch Apo abort NoTtHixe,
John. I wonder that thou (being, as thou ſay'f
thou art, born under Saturn) goeſt about to apply a
moral medicine to a mortifying miſchief: I cannct
hide what Iam: I muſt be ſad when I have cauſe,
and ſmile at no man's jeſts; eat when I have ſtomach,
and wait for no man”: leiſure; ſleep when 1 am drow-
fie, and tend on no man's buſineſs; laugh when Iam
merry, an“ claw no man in his humour,
Conr. Yea, but you muſt not make the full ſhow of
this, 'till you may do it without controlement; you
have of late ſtood out againſt your brother, and he
hath ta'en you newly into his grace, where it is im-
poſſible you ſhould take root, but by the fair weather
th:t you make your ſelf; it is needful that you frame
the ſeaſon for your own harveſt,
Fehn. 1 had rather be a canker in a hedge, than a
roſe in his grace; and it better fits my blood to be
diſdain'd of all, than to faſhion a carriage to rob love
from any: in this (though I cannot be ſaid to be a
flattering honeſt man) it muſt not be deny'd but | am
a plain-dealing viiliin;z I am truſted with a muzzel,
and infranchiſed with a clog, therefore I have d creed
not to ſing in my cage: if I had my mouth, I would
bite; if I hid my liberty, I would do my liking: in
the mean time let me be that I am, and ſeek not to al-
ter me,
Conr, Can you make no uſe of your diſcontent ?
John, 1 will make all uſe of it, for I uſe it only.
Who comes here? what news, Borachio?
Enter Borachio,
Bora. I came yonder from a great ſupper; the
Prince, your Brother is royally entertain'd by Leo-
nato, and 1 can give yon intelligence of an intended
marriage.
Join, Will it ſerve for any model to build miſchief
on? what is he for a fool that betroths himſelf to un-
atetneis?
Bora, Marry it is your brother's right hand.
John. Who, the moſt exquiſite Claudio?
"Bora. Even he.
John, A proper Squire; and who, and who? which
way looks he?
| Bora.
Moch Apo about NoTHING. 13;
Bora. Marty on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leo-
2A. 5
John. A very forward March chick! How come you.
to this?
Bora, Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was
ſmoking in a muſty room, comes me the Prince and
Claudio hand in hand in ſad conference: I whipt be-
hind the arras,. and there heard it agreed upon that the
Prince ſhould woo Hero for himſelf, and having obtain'd
her, give her to Count Claudio.
ohn, Come, come, let us thither, this may prove
food to my diſpleaſure :. that young ſtart-up hath all
the glory of my overthrow; if I can croſs him any
way, I bleſs my ſelt every way; you are both ſure,
and will aſſiſt me ?
Conr, To the death, my lord.
John. Let us to the great ſupper, their cheer is the.
greater that I am ſubdu'd ; would the cook were of
my mind: ſhall we go prove what's to be done ?
Bora, Weill wait upon your lordſhip, ¶Exeunt.
See ee e p23
LEA. AVE WW) CZ EINGEY 5 EEE EET FE. DY
SSS dee. N ;
ACT IL SCENE Xt
Leonato's Houſe.
Enttr Leonato, Antonio, Innogen, Hero, Beatrice,
Margaret and Urſula.
LION AT O.
+2 77715 A S not Count John here at ſupper ?
e.. I ſaw him not.
KEI»; hour after,
IL . '
Here. He is of a yery melancholy Diſ-
poſition.
Beat.
14 Much Apo about NOTHING.
Bear. He were an excellent man that were made
juſt in the mid-way between him and Benedick; the
one is too like an image, and ſays nothing; and the
other too like my lady's eldeſt ſon, eyermore tatling.
Leon. Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count
John's mouth, and halt Count John's melancholy in
Signior Benedicł's lace
Beat. With a good leg, and a good foot, uncle, and
mony enough in his purſe, ſuch a man would win a»
ny woman in the world, if he could get her good-will,
Leon. By my troth, neice, thou wilt never get thee
a husband, if thou be ſo ſhrewd of thy tongue,
Ant, In faith ſhe's too curſt.
Beat. Too curſt is more than curſt, J ſhall leſſen
God's ſending that way; for it is ſaid, God ſends a
curſt cow ſhort horns, but to a cow too curſt he ſends
none.
Leon. So by being too curſt, Qod will ſend you no
horns. |
Beat. Juſt, if he ſend me no busband, for the which
bleſſing I am at him upon my knees every morning
and evening: Lord! | couid not endure a husband
with a beard on his face, I had rather lie in wool-
len,
Leon, You may light upon a husband that hath no
beard.
Beat, What ſhould I do with him ? dreſs him in my
apparel, and make him my waiting-pentlewoman ? he
that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that
hath no be:rd is leſs than a man; and he that is more
than a youth, is not fit for me; and he that is leſs than
a man, I am not for him: therefore I will even take
fix pence in earneſt of the bearherd, and lead his apes
into hell. |
Leon, Well then, go you into hel.
Fear, No, but to the gate, and there will the devil
meet me like an old cuckold, with his horns on his
head, and ſay, get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you
to heav'n, here's no place for you maids: ſo deliver J
up my apes, and away to St. Peter, for the heav'ns;
he ſhews'me where the batchelors fit, and there live
we as merry as the day is long,
2 Ang.
A
Mucn Apo abut Nor HIN G. tf
Ant. Well neice, I truſt you will be rul'd by your
father. [10 Hero.
Beat, Yes, faith, it is my couſin's duty to make
curtſie, and ſay, as it pleaſe you; but yet for all that,
couſin, let him be a handſome fellow, or elſe make
another curtfie, and ſay, father, as it pleaſes me.
Leon, Well neice, J hope to ſee you one day fitted
With a husband.
Beat. Not till God make men of ſome other metal
than earth; would it not gri-ve a woman to be over=
maſter'd with a piece of valiant duſt? to mike account
of her life to a clod of way-werd marle ? no, uncle,
I'll none; Adam's ſons are my biethren, and truly I
hold it a ſin to match in my kind: ed,
Leon, Daughter, remember what I told you; if the
Prince do ſollicit you in that kind, you know your
anſwer,
Beat. The fault will be in the muſick, couſin, if you
be not woo'd in good time; if the Prince be too im-
portunate, tel] him there is meaſure in every thing,
and ſo dance out the Anſwer; for hear me. Hero, woo-
ing, wedding, and repenting, is a Scotch jig, 2 meaſure,
and a cinque-pace; the firſt ſuit is hot and halty, like
a Scotch jig, and full as fantaſtica); the wedding man-
nerly modeſt, as a meaſure, full of ſtate and anchen-
try; and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs
falls into the cinque-pace faſter and faſter, till he ſinks
into his grave.
Leon, Couſin, you apprehend paſſing ſhrewdly,
Beat. J have a good eye, uncle, I can fee a church
by day-light,
Leon, The revellers are entring, brother; make good
rqpm.
Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar,
and others in Maſquerade.
Pedro. Lady, will you walk about-with your friend?
Hero, So you walk ſoftly, and look ſweetly, and ſay
nothing, Iam yours for the walk, and eſpecially when
I walk away.
Pedro, With me in your company ?
Hero, I may ſay ſo when I pleaſe.
Jedro. And when pleaſe you to lay ſo?
Hiro,
1s Muck ADo about NorHINs.
Hero. When 1 like your favour; for God defend the lute
ſhould be like the caſc.
0 Pedro. My viſor is Philemon's roof, within the houſe is
ove.
Hero, Why then your viſor ſhould be thatch'd.
Pedro. Speak low, it you ſpeak love.
Bene. Well, I would you did like me.
Marg. So would not I for your own ſake, for I hays
many ill qualities,
Bene. Which is one?
Marg. I ſay my Prayers aloud.
Bene. I love you the better, the hearers may cry Amen;
Marg. God match me with a good dancer.
Balth, Amen,
Marg. And God keep him out of my ſight when the
dance is done: anſwer clerk,
Balth, No more words, the clerk is anſwer'd.
Urſu, I know you well enough, you are Signior An-
ſonio. ,
Ant, At a word, Iam not,
Ur/. I know you by the wagpling of your head.
Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him.
Urſ. You could never do bim ſo ill, well, unleſs you w re
the very man: here's his dry hand up and down; you are
he, you are he.
Ant. At a word, I am not.
Ur/. Come, come, do you think I do not know you
by your excellent wit? can virtue hide it ſelf? go to, mum,
you are he; graces will appear, and there's an end,
Beat. Will you not tell me who told you ſo?
Bene. No, you ſhall pardon me,
Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are ?
Bene, Not now.
Beat. That I was diſdainful, and that I had my good
wit out of the hundred merry tales; well, this was Signior
Benedick that {aid fo, :
Bene, What's he?
Beat. 1 am ſure you know him well enongh.
Bene, Not I, believe me.
Bear, Did he never make you laugh ?
Bene, I pray jou what is he?
4 MM R89Þtw 4
d
in
Mucn Apo about NOTHING. 17
Beat. Why, he is the Prince's jeſter, a very dull fool.
c only bis gift is in deviſing impoſſible ſlanders: none but
5 lbertines del ght in him, and the commendation is not
on in his wit, but in his villany; for he both. pleaſeth men and
angers them, and then they laugh at him, and beat him;
Jam ſure he is in the fleet, I would he had boarded me.
Bene, When I know the gentleman, ['l] tell him what
you fay.
's Beat. Do, do, he'll but break a compariſon or two on
me, which peradventure not mark'd, or not laugh'd at,
Rrikes him into melancholy, and then there's a partridge
wing ſav'd, for the foo! will eat no ſupper that night,
u. We mutt follow the leaders,
Bene, In eyery good thing.
h Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at
ie the next turning, [Exennt.
Muſick for the Dave,
John. Sure my brother is amorous on Here, and hath
2 withdrawn her father to break with him about it: the la-
dies follow ber, and but one viſor remains.
« . Sera, And that is Claudio, I know him by his bear-
ing.
| John. Are not you Sipnior Benedick.?
re Claud. You know me well, I am he.
re John. Signior, you are very near my brother in bis love,
be is enamour'd on Hero, I pray you diſſuade bim from
her, ſhe is no equal for his birth; you may do the part of
ou an honeſt man in it. 5
M, Claud. How know you he loves her?
John. I heard him ſwear his affection.
Bora, So did I too, and he ſwore he would marry her
to- night.
John. Come let us to the banquet,
Fxeunt John and Bor.
od Claud. Thus anſwer I in name of Bene dick,
or But hear this ill news with the ears of Claudio.
"Tis certain ſo, the prince wooes for himſelf,
Friendſhip is conſtant in all other things,
Save in the office and affairs of love;
Therefore all hearts in love uſe their own tongues,
Zet every eye negociate for it ſelf,
And
—_— ” —
— - —
-
- — _ —
2 — K— — —-—-— «
” - LY - ?
. _ > —
—
n
*. Y — * = _
18 Moch Apo about NorHINE.
And truſt no agent; beauty is a witch,
Againſt whoſe charms faith meiteth into blood.
This is an accident of hourly proof,
Which I miſtruſted not, Farewel then, Hero!
Euter Benedick.
Bene. Count Claudio?
Claud. Vea the ſame.
Bene. Come, will you go with me?
Claud. Wbither?
Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own buſine ſs,
Count. What faſhion will you wear the garland of? about
our neck, like an Uſurer's chain? or under your arm,
like 2 kieutenant's ſcarf ? you muſt weas it one way, for
the Prince hath got your Here.
Claud. I wiſh him joy of her.
Bene. Why that's ſpoken like an honeſt drover; fo they
ſell bullocks, but did you think the Prince would hay
ſerved you thus? ä
Claud. | pray you leave me.
Bene, Ho now you ſtrike like the blind man; *rwas the «
boy that ſt»le your meat, and you'll bezt the put,
Cland. If it will not be, I'll leave you, [Exit.
Bene, Alas pcor burt fowle, now will he creep into
ſedges. But that my lady Beatrice ſhouid know me, and
not know me! the Prince's fool! ha: it may be 1 go un-
der that title, becauſe lam merry; yea, but ſo I am apt to
do my ſelf wrong: Jam not fo reputed, It is the baſe J
(bo' bitter) diſpoſition of Beatrice, that puts the word into
her perſon, and fo gives me eut; well, I'll be reveng'd as
I may.
Enter Den Pedro,
a Pedro, Now Signior, where's the Count? did you ſee
im:?
Bene, Troth my lord, I have play'd the part of lady
Fame, I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in 2
warren, I told him (and l thiuk, tol4 him true) that you:
Grace had got the will of this young lady, and tc ffer'd him
my company to a willow tree, either to make him a gar-
laud, as being forſaken, or to bind him a rod, as being
worthy to be Whipt. ä
Pedra.
e r , NO cc ac os - a ⁰˙ͤͥꝛ w _
efs,
aut ws
Im,
tor
they
have
$ the —
Exit.
into
, and
0 UN- 2
pt to
: baſe ©*
into
g d as
zu ſee
lady
e in 2
t your
d him
a gar-
being
Pedro. N
Moch Apo about NoTHING. 19
Fedro, Tobe whipt! what's his fault ?
Berne. The flit tranfgreffion of a ſchool-boy, who being
over-Joy'd with finding a bird's neſt, ſnews it his com-
panion, and he flez]}3 it,
Pedro Wilt thou make a truſt, a tranſgreſſion? the
tranſgr: ſſion is in the ſealer,
Bene. Vet it h:d not been amiſs the rod had been made,
and the guhnd too; for the girland he might have worn
himſ:1', and the rod ke might have beſtow'd on you,
who (es I take ir) have ſtol'n his bi-d's neſt,
Pedro, I will but teach them to ſing, and reftcre them
to the owner.
Bere If their ſinging anſwer your ſaying, by my faith
you ſay honeſtly. |
Pedro, The lady Beatrice hath a quer rel to you; the gen-
tle man that danc'd with her, told her ſheis much wrong d
by you.
* O ſhe miſus'd me paſt the indurance of a block;
an o:k but with one green leaf on it, would have an ſwer'd
her; my very viſor begen to eſſime life, and ſcold with
ber; ſhe told me, not thinking 1 bad been my ſe f, that
1 was the Prince's jeſter, and that I was duller than a
great thaw; hudling j: upon jeſt, with;\uch impoſſible
conveyance upon me. that I ſtood like a man at a mark,
with a whole army ſhooting at me; ſhe ſpezk; Ponyarde,
and every word ſtzbs; if her breath were as terrible as
terminations, there were no living near her, ſhe would
in fect to the North- Star; 1 would not marry her, though
ſhe were irdowed with all that Adam had left him before
he tranſpreſ.'d; ſhe wou'd have made Hercules bave
turn'd fpit, yea and have cleit bis club to make the fre
too. Come, talk not of her, you ſhall find her the in-
fernal Atè in good apparel. I would to God ſome ſcho-
lar would conjure her, for certainly while ſhe is here, a
man may live as quiet in hell as in a ſanQuary, end peo-
ple fin upon purpoſe, becauſe they would go thither; ſo
indeed all diſquiet, horror, and perturbarion follow her.
Enter Claudio, Beatrice, Leoriato and Hero.
Ped. Look here ſhe comes.
Bene. Will your Grace command me any ſervice to
the world's cad? 1 will go on the ſlighteſt crrand now
| to
a
„ „%% DES
— —
20 Muck Apo about Nor HIN.
to the Antipodes that you can deviſe ty ſe de on; J
will fetch you a tooth-picker now trom the fi-iheft
inch of Aſia; bring you the lenyih. o Preſter Fohy's
foot; t2tch you a hair off the great Cham's beara; do
' you any ambaſſige to the pigmies, rather than hold three
words conference with this harpy; you have no employ-
ment for me?
Pedro. None but to dtſire your good company.
Bene. O God, ir, here's a diſh 1 love not. I cannot in-
dure this Lady's tongue, Exit.
Pedre. Come lady, come, yau have loſt the heart of
Signior Benedicli
Beat, Indeed my Lord, he lent it me a while, and [
gave him uſe for it, a double heart for a ſingle one; mar-
ry, once before he won it of me with falſe dice, therefore
your Grace may well {ay I have loſt it.
Pedro. You have put him down, Lady, you have put
him down,
Beat. So I would not he ſhould do me, my Lord, leſt
I ſhauld prove the mother of focks; I have brought Count
Claudio, whom you ſent me to ſeek,
F968 Why how now Ceunt, wherefore are you
2d ?
Claud. Not ſad, my Lord.
Ped. Row then? tick ?
Claud. Neither, my Lord.
Beat. The Count is neither fad, nor fick nor merry,
nor well; but civil Count, civil as an orange, and fome-
thing of a j*alcus complexion,
Pedro, Vfaith Lady I think your blazon to be true;
though Ill be ſworn, if he be ſo, his conceit is falſe.
Here Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is
won; I have broke with her father, and his good will
obtained, name the day of marriage, and God pive thee
joy.
f 1 Count, take of me my daughter, and with her
my fortunes: his Grace hath made the match, and all
grace ſay Amen to it.
Beat. Speak Count, 'tis your cue.
Claud. Silence is the perfecteſt herald of joy; I were
Beek but
a4 NWS
Re wh,
3 |
heft
hbu's
do
jree
loy-
t in-
xit.
t of
d 1
nar-
tore
put
leſt
ound
you.
er.
Ome-
true;
falſe.
ero is
| will
thee
1 her
d all
were
but
> of {uit, +
Moch ADpo about NoTHING. 21
but little happy, f I could ſay how much. Lady, as
you are mitie, I am yours; 1 give away my ſelf for
you, and doat upon the exchange.
Bear. Speak Coufin, or (i you cannot) ftop his
mouth with a kiſs, and let not him ſpeak neither.
Pedro. In faith Lady, yau have a merry heart.
Beat. Yea mv Lord, I thank it, poor fool, it keeps
on the windy fid- of care; my conſin tells him in his
ear that he is in my heart,
Claud. And ſo ſhe doth, couſin.
Beat. Good Lord, for alliance! thus goes every one
to the world but I, and I am ſun-burn'd, I may fit
in a corner, and cry heigh ho for a husband.
Pedro. Lady Beatrice, Iwill get you one,
Beat. I would ratger have one of your father's get-
ting: hath your Grace ne'er a brother like you? your
father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come
by them.
Pedro. Will you have me, Lady?
Beat. No, my Lord, unleſs I might have another
for working-days; your Grace is too coſtly to wear
every day: but I beſeech your Grace pardon me, I
was born to ſpeak all mirth and no matter,
Pedro, Your filence moſt offends me, and to be
merry beſt becomes you; for out of queſtion you
were born in a merry hour.
Beat. No ſure my Lord, my mother cry'd; but then
there was a ftar danc'd, and under that I was born,
Couſins, God give you joy,
Leon. Neice, will you look to thoſe things I told
you of ?
Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle: by your Grace's
pardon. Exit Beatrice,
Pedro. By my troth a pleaſant ſpirited Lady.
Teon. There's little of the melancholy element in
her, my! Lord; fhe is never ſad but when ſhe ſleeps,
and not ever ſad then; for I have heard my daughter
ſay, ſhe hath often dream'd of unhappineſs, and wak'd
her ſelf with laughing,
: Pedro, She cannot endure to hear tell of a huf-
and.
Leon. O by no means, ſhe mocks all her wooers s
Pedro.
22 Much Apo about Nor HIN.
- Pedro, She were an excellent wife for Benedick,
Leon. O Lord, my Lord, it they were but a week
marry'd they would talk themſelves mad,
Pedro, Count Claudio, when mean you to go to
church ?
Claud, To morrow, my Lord; time goes on crutches,
till love have all his rites.
| Leon, Not 'till Monday, my dear ſon, which is hence
a juſt ſeven-night, and a time tov brief too, to have
all things anſwer my mind.
Pedro. Come, you ſhake the head at ſo long a
breathing; but I warrant thee Claudio, the time ſhall
not go oully by us; I will in the Izterim undertake.
one of Hercules's labours, which is to bring Signior
Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of af.
fection the one with the other; I would fain have it
a match, and 1 doubt not to faſhion it, if you three
will but miniſter ſuch aſſiſtance as I ſhall give you
direction.
Leon. My Lord, I am for you, though it coſt me
ten nights watchings:
Claud. Ani I my Lord.
Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero?
Hero. 1 will do any modeſt office, my Lord, to help
my couſin to a good husband.
Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefulleſt huſ-
band that I know: thus far I can praiſe him, he is of
a noble ſtrain, of approv' valour, and confirm'd ho-
nefty, 1 will teach you how to humour your Cuſin,
thar ſhe ſhall fall · in love with Bezedick; and 1, with
your two helps, will ſo practiſe on Beredick, that in
deſpight of his quick wit, and his queaſie ſtomach, he
ſhall fall iu love with Beatrice: if we can do this, Cu-
pid is no longer an archer, his glory ſhall be ours, for
we are the only Love-Gods; go in with me, and L
will tell yon my drift. Exeunt.
Enter Don John and Borachio.
John, It is ſo, the Count Claudio ſhill marry the
Daughter of Leonaro.
Bora. Yea my Lord, but I can croſs it.
John. Any bar, any croſs, any impediment will
be medicinable to me; I am ſick in diſpleaſure to him,
| ; and
*
-
- 3
2
* *
r A . -
-
2 of Lt r 2 4 «
|
FF FY a . A a aca A ade ac. aan mai wo o@A ax ' .
Mock Apo about NoTHING. 23
and whatfoever comes athwart his affection, ranges
evenly with mine. How canſt thou croſs his mar-
riage ?
Bora. Not honeſtly my Lord, but ſo covertly that.
no diſhoneſty ſhall appear in me,
John, Shew me briefly how.
Bora. I think I told your lordſhip a year ſince, bow
much 1 am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting-
4#
on
F
:
I
-
-
* ;
%
—_—_
1 oy
n
ARE E
. N
gentle woman to Hers.
"dy I remember.
ora. I ein, at any unſeaſonable inftant of the
night, appoint her to look out at her Lady's cham-
ber window, |
John. What life is in that, to be the death of this
| marriage ?
Bora. The poiſon of that lyes in you to temper; go
you to the Brince your brother, ſpare not to tell him,
that he hath wrong'd his bonour in marrying the re—
nown'd Claudio, (whoſe eſtimation you do mightily
hold up) to a contaminated ſtale, ſuch a one as Hero.
John, What proof ſhall I make of that?
Bora. Proof enough, to miſuſe the Prince, to vex
Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato; look you tor
any other iflue ?
Fehn. Only to deſpite them, I will endeayour any
thing,
ow Go then find me a meet hour, to draw on
Pedra, and the Count Claudio, alone; tell them that
you know Hero loves me; intend 2 kind of zeal both
to the Prince and Claudio, as in a love of your bro-
ther's honour. who hath made this match, and his
friend's reputation, who is thus like to be coz:n'd with
the ſemblance of a maid, that you have difcover'd
thus; they will hardly believe this without tryal: of-
fer them inſtances which ſhall bear no leſs likelihood
than to ſee me at her chamber window, hear me call,
Margaret, Hero; hear Margaret term me Berachio, and
bring them to ſee. this, the very night belore the in-
| tended wedding; for in the mean time I will fo fifhion
the matter, that Hero ſha] be abſent, and there ſhall
appear ſuch ſeeming 1 of Hero's dilloyalty, that
jealouſie
24 Much Abo about NoTniNG.
jealouſy ſhall be call'd aſſurance, and all the prepara-
tion overthrown, |
John. Grow this to what adverſe iſſue it can, I will
put it in practice: be cunning in the working this, and
thy fee is a thouſand ducats.
Bora, Be thou conſtant in the accuſation, and my
cunning ſhall not ſhame me.
John. I will preſently go learn their day of mar-
riage. Exeunt.
| Leonato's Garden.
Enter Benedick and a Boy,
Bene. Boy.
Boy. Signior,
Bene. In my chamber widow lies a book, bring it
hither to me in the orchard.
Boy, I am here already, Sir, Exit Boy,
Bene. I know that, but I would have thee hence,
and here again, I do much wonder, that one man
ſeeing how much another man is a fool, when he de-
dicates his behaviours to loye, will after he hath laught
at ſuch ſhallow follies in others, become the argument
of his own ſcorn, by falling in love! and ſuch a man
is Claudio. I have known when there was no muſick
with him but the drum and the fife, and now had he
rather hear the taber and the pipe: 1 have known
when he would have walk'd ten mile a-foot, to ſee a
good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake,
carving the faſhion of a new doublet. He was wont
to ſpeak plain, and to the purpoſe, like an honeſt
man and a ſoldier, and now is he turn'd orthographer,
his words are a very fantaſtical] banquet, juſt ſo many
ſtrange diſhes, May I be ſo converted, and ſee with
theſe eyes? 1 cannot tell, I think not. I will not be
ſworn, but love may transform me to an oyſter; but
I'}l take my oath on it, 'till he have made an oyſter
of me, he ſhall never make me ſuch a fool: one wo-
man is fair, yet I am well; another is wiſe, yet I am
well; another virtuous, yet I am well, But *till all
graces be in one woman, one woman ſhall not come
in my grace. Rich ſhe ſhall be, that's certain; wiſe,
or 1I'i] none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her:
fair, or I'll never look on her; mid, or come not
near
3 W 0
©. =
ra-
Moch Apo about NoTHING. 25
near me; noble, or not for an angel; of good dif-
courſe, an excellent muſician, and her hair ſhall be of
what colour it pleaſe God. Ha! the Prince and Mon-
fcur Love: I will hide me in the arbour.
Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio and Balthazar.
Pedro. Come, ſhall we hear this mulick ?
Claud. Yea, my good lord; how (till the even-
ing is,
As huſh'd on purpoſe to grace harmony.
Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid him ſelf?
Claud. O very well, my lord; the mulick ended,
We'll fic the kid-fox wit ha puny worth.
Pedro. Come Balthazar, we'll hear that ſong again,
Balth. O good my lord, tax nor ſo bid a voice
To flander mulick any more than once.
Pedro. It is the witneſs ftill of excellency.
To put a ſtrange face on his own perfection;
I pray thee ſing, and let me woo no more. *
The SONG.
Sigh no more, ladies, ſigh no more,
Nen were aeceivers ever,
Oze
L
*
-u no more.
Balth. Becauſe you talk of wooing, I will ling,
Since many a wooer doth commence his ſuit
To her he thinks not worthy, yet he wous,
Yet will he ſwear he loves.
Pedro. Nay, pray thee come.
Or if thou wilt hold longer argument,
Do it in notes.
Balth. Note this before my nores,
There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting.
Pedro. Why theſc are very crotchets that he ſpeaks,
Note notes foi ſooth, and nothing.
Bene. Now divine air; now 15 his {cul raviſt'd! is it
not ſtrange, that ſheeps guts ſhould hale fouls out of
men's bodies? well, a horn jor my money, when ali's
done.
The ſong, Ge B
24 Much Apo about NorHhINS.
Jealouſy ſhall be call'd aſſurance, and all the prepara-
tion overthrown, f
John. Grow this to what adverſe iſſue it can, J wil!
put it in practice: be cunning in the working this, and
thy fee is a thouſand ducats.
Bora, Be thou conſtant in the accuſation, and my
cunning ſhall not ſhame me.
John, I will preſently go learn their day of mar-
riage, | Exennts
| Leonato's Garden.
Fnter Benedick and a Boy,
Bene. Boy.
Boy. Signior.
Bene. In my chamber widow lies a book, bring it
hither to me in the orchard. |
Boy, I am here already, Sir, [ Exit Boy,
Bene. I know that, but I would have thee hence,
and here again, I do much wonder, that one man
ſeeing how much another man is a fool, when he de-
dicates his behaviours to loye, will after he hath laught
at ſuch ſhallow follies in others, become the argument
ot his own ſcorn, by falling in love! and ſuch a man
is Claudio, I have known when there was no.mulick
with him but the drum and the fife, and now had he
rather hear the taber and the pipe: 1 have known
when he would have walk'd ten mile a-foot, to fee a
good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake,
carving the faſnion of a new doublet. He was wont
to ſpeak plain, and to the purpoſe, like an honeſt
man and a ſoldier, and now is he turn'd orthographer,
his words are a very fantaſtical banquet, juſt ſo many
ſtrange diſhes, May I be ſo converted, and ſee with
theſe eyes? 1 cannot tell, I think not, I will not be
ſworn, but love may transform me to an oyſter ; but
I'll take my oath on it, *cill he have made an oyſter
of me, he ſhall never make me ſuch a fool: one wo-
man is fair, yet I am well; another is wiſe, yet I am
well; another virtuous, yet I am well, But till all
graces be in one woman, one woman ſhall not come
in my grace. Rich ſhe ſhall be, that's certain; wiſe,
or lil none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her:
fair, or 1'il neyer leck on her; mid, or com? not
near
Boy.
nce,
man
de-
nent
man
ick
d he
own
ee a
ake,
wont
One ſt
ber,
nany
with
ot be
but
yſter
WO+s
I am
I all
come
wiſe,
her:
2 not
near
Moch Apo about NOTHING. 25
near me; noble, or not for an angel; of good diſ-
courſe, an excellent muſician, and her hair ſhall be of
what colour it pleaſe God. Ha! the Prince and Mon-
fcur Love: I will hide me in the zrbour.
Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio and Balthazar.
Pedro. Come, ſhall we hear this mulick ?
Claud. Yea, my good lord; how (till the even-
ing is,
As huſh'd on purpoſe ro grace harmony.
Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid him ſelf?
Claud. O very weil, my lord; the mulick ended,
We'll fic the kid-fox witha p-uny worth.
Pedro. Come Balthazar, we'll hear that ſong again.
Balth. O good my lord, tax nor ſo b d a voice
To flander mulick any more than once.
Pedro. It is the witneſs ſtill of excellency.
To put a ſtrange face on his own pet fection;
1 pray thee ſing, and let me woo no more. *
The SONG.
Sigh no more, ladies, ſigh no more,
A en were adeceivers ever,
Oze
3
*
-u o no more.
Balth. Becauſe you talk of wooing, I will ling,
Since many a wooer doth commence his ſult
To her he thinks not worthy, yet be wous,
Yet will he {wear he loves.
Pedro. Nay, pray thee come.
Or if thou wilt hold longer argument,
Do it in notes.
Balth. Note this before my notes,
There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting.
Pedro. Why thelc are very ciutchets that he tpeaks,
Note notes foi ſooth, and nothing.
Bene. Now divine air; now is his {cul raviſh'd! is it
not ſtrange, that ſheeps guts ſhould hale ſouls out of
men's bodies? well, a horn jor my money, when all's
done. |
The ſong, we B
Tomes WW, —
- Fw 4 un © >
— — s
- — — bu
_
—_— a————
* 1
8
— — .
= We —
— — 2 —
EY en 3:
26 Much Apo about NoTHING.
One foot in ſea, and one on ſhore, 7
To one thing conſtant never ,
Then ſigh not fo, but let them go,
And be you blith and bonny,
Converting all your ſounds of woe
Into hey nony, nony.
Sing no more ditties, ſing no more,
Of dumps ſo dull and heavy;
The frauds of men were ever ſo,
Since ſummer fir/i was leafy:
Then ſigh not ſo, &c.
Pedro. By my troth a good ſong.
Balth, And an ill ſinger, my lord.
Pedro. Ha, no; no faith; thou ſing'ſt well enough
for a ſnift.
Bene. If he had been a Dog that ſhould have howl'd
thus they would have hang'd him, and I pray God
his bad voice bode no miſchief; I had as lief have
heard the night-raven, come what plague could have
come after it.
Pedro. Yea marry, doſt thou hear Balthaxar? I pray
thee get us ſome excellent mulick ; for to-morrow
we would have it at the lady Hero's chamber win«
dow.
Balth. The beſt I can, my lord. [ Exit Balthazar.
Pedro. Do ſo: farewell, Come hither Leonato;
what was it you told me of to-day, that your neice
Beatrice was 11 love with Signior Benedick ?
Claud. O ay, ſtalk on; ſtalk on, the fowl fits. 1
did never think that lady would have loved any man,
Leon. No, nor I neither ; but moſt wonderful, that
ſhe ſhould ſo doat on Signior Benedick, whom ſhe
hath in all outward behaviours ſzem'd ever to abhor.
Bene. 1st poſſible, fits the wind in that corner?
Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to
think of it; but that ſhe loves him with an inraged
aft *t:on, ir is paſt the infinite of thought.
Pedro. May be ſlie doth but counterfeit.
"aud. Faith like enough.
Leon.
Moch Abo about Nor:
Leen. O God! counterfeit? tleie 1 oun—
terfeit of paſſion came ſo wear the it. inen as
ſhe diſcovers it.
Pedro. Why, what effects of paſſion Fuvs ſhe ?
Claud. Bait the hook weil, the ifs v' bite.
Leon. What eſtects, my lord? h. WI fic you, you
heard my daughter rell you how.
Claud. She did indeed.
Pedro. How, how. 1 pray you ? you amaze me I
would have thought her i,irit nad been 1nvincible a-
gainſt all afſavits of affection.
Leon, I would have tworn it had, my lord, eſpeci-
ally againſt Benedick.
Bene. I ſhould think this a gu, but that the white-
bearded fellow ipeaks it; kuavery cannot ture hide
himſeit in ſuch reverence.
Claud. He iath ta'en th' inicct ion, hold it up.
Pedro. H ath ſhe made her aftection known to Ben-
dick ?
Leon. No, and ſwears ſhe rever will, that's her
cor ment.
Claud. Tis true indeed, ſo your daughter ſays:
ſnall I, ſays ſhe, that have fo ei; encounter'd him with
{corn, write to him that I love him ?
Leon. This ſays ſhe now, when ſhe is beginning to
write to him; tor ſhe'!] be up twenty times a-night,
and there will the fic in her ſniock, till ſhe have writ
a ſheet of paper; my daughterrtells us all.
Claud. Now you talk of a ſheet of paper, I remem-
ber a pretty jeſt your daughter told us ot.
Leon. O, when ſhe had writ it, and was reading it
over, ſhe found Benedick and Beatrice between the
ſheer.
Claud. That.
Leon. O, ſhe tore the letter into a thouſand half-
pence, rail'd at her felt, that ſhe ſhould be ſo immo—
deft, to write to one that ſhe knew wou'i flout her:
I meaſure him, ſays ſhe, by my own ſpirit, for I
ſhou'd flout him u he writ to me, yea tho' | love
him, I ſhould. 25 |
Claud. Then down upon her knees ſhe falls, weeps,
2 bos,
— — —— —— _— =
. a _- — — = — - - + 4 * 2 * = —
- * = - 3 —
* 3 LO . m - —
. — .
- __
OS pt
IS — 7
—
— _—
— 4
WIE 4 wy
=
— .
c
—
——
.
=
—Y——— —
* —
—
— -
- LS 2
* - -
—
—
28 Moch Apo about NoTHING.
- fobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curſes?
O cet Benedict“ God give me patience !
Leon. She dotn indeed, my diughter ſays fo, and
the ecitatic hath ſo much overborn her, that my daugh-
ter is jometimes afraid ſhe will do deſperate outrage
to her ſelf; it is very true.
Pedro. It were good that Benedick knew of it by
ſome other, if ſhe will not diſcover it.
Claud. To what end? he would but make a ſport
of it, and torment the poor lady wor ſe.
Pedro. If he ſhould, it were an alms to hang him;
ſhe's an excellent ſweet lady, and (out of all ſuſpicion)
ſhe is virtuous.
Claud. And ſhe is exceeding wile.
Pedro. In every thing but in loving Penedick.
Leon. O my lord, wiſdom and bivod combating in
ſo tender a body, we have ten probfs to one, that
blood hath the victory; I am lorry for her, as I have
Jaſt cauſe, being her uncle and her guardian.
Pedro. I would ſhe had beitow'd this dotage on me;
I would have dofft ali other teſpects, and made her
half my ſelf; I pray you tell Bexedick of it, and hear
what he will lay,
Leon. Were it good, think you?
Claud. Hero thinks turciy ſhe will die, for ſhe ſays
ſhe will die if he love her not, and ſhe will die ere
ſhe make her love known ; and the will die it he woo
her, rather than ſhe will bate one breath of her ac-
caſtom'd croſſneſs.
Pedro. She doth well; if ſhe ſhou'd make tender
of her love, 'tis very poflible he'll ſcorn it; for the
man, as you know all, hath a contemprible ipric,
Claud. He is a very proper man.
Pedro. He hath indeed a good out ward happineſs.
Claud. Fore God, and in my mind very wiſe.
Pero. He doth indced ſhew ſome ſparks that are
like wit.
Leon. And I take him to be valiant.
Pedro. As Hector, Iaſſure you; and in the manag-
ing of quarrels you may ſve he is wile, for cither he
avoids them with great difcretion, or undertakes ow
Wit
are
Rag.
r he
nem
with
Much Apo about NOTHING. 29
with a chriſtian-like fear.“ Wel, I am ſorry for your
neice: ſhall we go ſce Benedict, and tell him of her
love ?
Claud. Never tell him, my lord, let her wear it out
with good counſel,
Leon. Nay, that's impoſſible, ſhe may wear her heart
out fir ſt.
Pedro, Well, we will hear further of it by your
daughter; let it cool the while. I love Benedick weil,
and I could wiſh he would modeſtiy examine himſelt,
» ſee how much he is unworthy to have ſo good a
ady.
Leon. My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready.
Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will
never truſt my expectation.
Pedro. Let there be the ſame net ſpread for her, and
that muſt your daughter and that gentlewoman carry
the ſport will be, when they hold an opinion of one
ano: her's dotage, and no ſuch matter; that's the
{cene that I would fee, which will be meerly a dumb
ſhew ; let us ſend her to call him in to dinner.
Exeunt.
Bene. This can be no trick, the conference was
ſadly born; they have the truth of this from Hero.
they ſeem to pity the lady; it ſcems her affections
have the full bent. Love me! why it muſt be requi-
ted: I hear how I am ceaſur'd ; they ſay I will bear
my ſelf proudly, if I perceive the love come from ber;
they ſay too, that ſhe will rather die than give any
ſign of affection— I did never think to marry—1
muſt not ſeem proud happy are they that hear their
de-
r »
—
a chriſtian- like fear.
Leon. If he do fear God, he muſt neceſſarily keep
peace; if he break the peace, he ought to enter into
a quarrel with fear and trembling.
Pedro. And ſo will he do, for the man doth fear
God, howloever it ſcems not in him, by ſome large
jeſts he will make,
Well, Ce. B 3
=
* —
— en
pr —
* *
1
= — *
*
17% «
17
*
*
o
'*
=
30 Moch Apo about NoTHING.
derractions, and can put them to mending: they ſay
the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can bear them witneſs ;
and v.stuous ; “is lo, I cannot reprove it: and wiſe,
but for loving me by my troth it is no addition to
ter wi, nor no great argument of her folly ; for I
Will be hor: Joly in iove with her, — I may chance to
have ſome odd quirks and remrants of wit broken on
me, tecaule I have raiid ſo long againſt marriage
but doth not the apperite alter ? a man loves the mear
in his youth, that he cannot endure in his age. Shall
quipps and fentences, and theſe paper bullets of the
brain, awe a man from the career of his humour?
no: the wal muſt be peopled. When I ſaid I would
die a barchclor, I did not think I ſhould live 'till I
were marry'd. Here comes Beatrice : by this day ſhe's
a fair lady, I do ſpy ſome marks of love in her.
Enter Beatrice.
Beat. Againſt my will Jam ſent to bid you come in
to dinner.
Bene. Pair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.
Beat. I took no more paias for thoſe thanks, than
you take pairs to thank me; if it had been painful, I
wou'd not have come.
Bene. You take pleaſure then in the meſſage.
Beat. Vea, juſt ſo much as you may take upon a
knife's point, and choak a daw withal: you have no
ſtomach, Signior; fare you well. [ Exit.
Bene. Ha! againſt my will I am ſent to bid you
come in to dinner: there's a double meaning in that.
I rook no more pains for thoſe thanks, than you took
pains to thank me; that's as much as to ſay, any pains
that J take for you is as eaſy as thanks. If I do not
take pity of her, I am a villain ; if I do not love her,
I am a Few; I will go get her picture. [Exit,
ACT
« -
.
Moch Apo about NoTHING. 31
——— —
ren
Continues in the Garden.
Ente Hero, Mirgaret and Uclula,
Htno.
OOD Margaret run hee into the par:our,
Theie ſhalt thou find my coin Beatrice,
Fiopoſing with the prince and Claudio;
Whiſper her car, and tell ber land Urſula
Walk in the o. 14rd, and our Wioie dc at ſe
Is all of her; ſay hat thou overneara'tt vs,
And bid her {tcai into the p!c:cned bower,.
Where honey- ſuckles ripen'd by the ſun
For bid the tun to enter; like to favourites
Made proud by princes. that advance their pride
Againſt tnat power that bred it : there will ſhe hide her,
To liſten to our purpoſe; this is thy office,
Bear the well in it, and leave us 3lone.
Marg. Ill make hy come I warrant preſently. [ Exi:.
Hero, Now Urſula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trzce this alley up and down,
Our talk muit only be of Benedick;
hen Ido name him, let it be thy part
To praiſe him more than ever man did merit,
My talk to thee muſt be how Benedicł
Is fick in love with Beatrice; of this matter
Is little Cupids crafty arrow made,
That only wounds by hear-ſay : now begin.
Enter Beatrice.
For look where Beatrice like a lapwing runs
Cloſe by the ground to hear our conference.
Urſu. The pleaſanteſt angling is to ſee the fiſhy:
Cut with her golden oars the ſilver ſtream
And greedily de vour the treacherous bait;
: | B 4. 80
*
0
A)
| | :
if
\ |
4
q
F
4
—
i r
3
32 Moch Apo about NOTHING:
So angle we for Beatrice, who ev'n now
Is couched in the woodbme coverture ;
Fear you not my part of the dialogue.
Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear loſe nothing
Ot the falſe ſweet bait that we lay for it.
No truly Urſula ſhe's too diſdainful,
1 know her ſpirits are as coy and wild,
As F haggerds of the rock.
Urſ#. But are you ſure
That Penedick loves Featrice ſo intirely ?
Hero. So ſays the prince, and my new-trothed lord
Urſu. And did they bid you tell her of it. Madam?
Hero. They did intreat me to acquaint her of it;
But I per ſuaded them, it they lov'd Benedick,
To with him wreſtle with atfection,
And never to let Peatrise know of it.
Vu. Why did you ſo? doth not the gentleman
Peterve as full, as fortunate a bed,
As ever Featrice ſha!ll couch upon?
Hero. O God of love! I know he doth deſerve
As much as may be yielded to a man:
Bur nature never fram'd a woman's heart
Of prouder ſtuff than that of Beatrice.
Diidain and ſcorn ride ſparkling in her eyes,
Miſ-prizing what they look on, and her wit
Values it ielt ſo highly, that to her
All matter elſe ſeems weak; ſhe cannot love,
Nor take no ſhape nor project ot affectiou,
She is ſo ſelf-endeared.
Ur/a. Sure I think ſo;
And therefore certainly it were not good
She knew his love, leſt ſhe make ſport at it.
Hero, Why you ſpeak truth. 1 never yet ſaw man,
How wiſe, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd,
But ſhe would ſpell him backward ; * it fair-fac'd,
* She'd ſwear the gentleman ſhould be her ſilter;
If black, why nature drawing of an antick,
Made a foul blot; if tall, a launce ill- headed;
If low, an agat very vilely cut;
If ſpeaking, why a vane blowa with all winds;
+ wild hawks,
©
FR „ „
.
2
= nt a0. a_ WC ,
1 -—_ a
rd,
12
N,
;- WW wo
*
Moch Apo about NoTnING., 33
© Tf lent, why a block moved with none.
So turns ſhe every man the wrong {ide out,
And never gives to truth and virtue that
Which ſimpleneſs and merit purchaſeth.
Ur/#. Sure, ſure ſuch carping is not commendable.
Hero. No, for to be ſo cdd, and from all faſhions,
As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable.
But who dare tell her ſo? if I ſhould ſpeak,
She'd mock me into air, O the would laugh me
Out of my ſelf, preſ; me to death with wit.
Therefore let Benedick, like covered fire,
Conſume away in ſighs, waſte inward!y ;
It were a bitter death ro die with mocks,
Which is as bad as tis to die with tickling,
Urſu. Yet tell her of it; hear what ſhe will Gy.
Hero. No, rather I will goto Penedick,
And counſel him to fight againſt his paſſion.
And truly 111 deviſe | ori honeſt {landers
To ſtain my coulin with; one doth not know
How much an ill word may impoiſon liking.
Urſu. O do not do your coulin ſuch a wrong.
She cannot beſo much without true judgment,
(Having ſo ſweet and excellent a wit,
As ſhe is priz'd to have) as to refuſe
So rare a gentleman as Benedicł.
Hero. He is the only man of Italy,
Always excepted my dear Claudio.
Urſu. 1 pray you be not angry with me, Madam,
Speaking my fancy; Signior Benedick,
For ſhape, for bearing, argument and valour,
Goes foremoſt in report through Italy.
Hero. Indeed he hath an excellent good name.
Urſu. His excellence did earn it ere he had it.
When are you married, Madam ?
Hero, Why every day, to-morrew; come, go in-
I'll ſhew thee ſome attires, and have thy counſel
Which is the beſt to furniſh me ro-morrow. |
Urſu. She's ta'en, I warrant you; we have caught ker,
Madam.
Hero, If it prove ſo, then | vis goes by haps;
4 # —d 2. 6. . B 5 5 Some
34 Moch Abo about NoTHING,
Some Cupids kill with arrows, ſome with traps.
[ Exeunt.
Beat, What fire is in my ears? can this be true ?
Stand I condemn'd for pride and ſcorn ſo much?
Contempt facewel, and maiden pride adieu!
No glory lives behind the back of ſuch.
And Benedick love on, 1 will requite thee,
Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand;
It thou doſt love, my kindneſs ſhall incite thee
To bind our loves up in an holy band.
For o'he:s ſay thou doſt deſerve, and I
Believe it beter than reportingly. [ Exi?,
Enter Den Pedro, Claudio, Benedick and Leonato.
Pedro. I Co but flay 'till your marriage be conſum-
mate, aid then I go toward Arragon.
Claud. 1'il bring you thither, my lord, if you'!
vouchſaſe me.
Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a foil in the
new gloſs of your marriage, as to ſhew a child hi:
new coat and forbid him to wear it. I will only be ;
bold with Penedick for his company, for from the
ctowu of his head to the ſogl of his foot he is al!
miith ; he hath twice or rhrice cut Capid's bow-ltring,
and the little hangman dare not ſhoot at him; he
hath a heart as ſound as a bell, and his tongue is
the clapper ; for what his heart thinks, his tongue
ſpeaks.
Bene. Gallants, J am not as I have been.
Leon. So ſay I; methinks you are ladder,
Claud. I hope he is in love.
Pedro. Hang him truant, there's no true drop o
blo:d in him, to be truly toach'd with love; if be
de ſad, he wants mony.
Bene. I have the tooth- ach.
Pedro. Draw it.
Bene. Hang it.
Claud. You muſt hang it fiſt, and draw it afterwards,
Pedro. What? figh for the tooth-ach!
Leon. Which is but a humour, or a worm.
Bene, Well, every one can malter a grief but he
what has it, | Os | Claud.
D D _ Ca ©... hs Tv
Moch Apo about NoTHING. 35
Claud. Vet ſay J he is in love.
4 Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in him.
g unleſs it be a fancy that he hath to ſtrange diſguiles,
as to be a Dutch man to-day, a French man to- mor-
row. + Or in the ſhape of two countries at once, a
German from the waiſt downward, all {lops, and a
Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet : Unleſs he
have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath,
he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it to 3p-
pear he is.
Claud. If he be not in love with ſome woman,
"* there is no believing old ſigns; he bruſhes his hat a-
mornings ; what ſhould that bode?
. Pedro. Hath any man ſeen him at the barber's ?
Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been ſeen
with him, and the old ornament of his cheek hath
I already ſtuft tennis- balls.
oi Leon. Indeed he looks younger than he did by the
he: loſs of a beard.
bis Pedro. Nay, he rubs himſelf with civet, can you ſmell
be! him out by that? :
hs Claud. That's as much as to ſay, the ſweet yourh's -
all in love. IP
og. Pedro. The greateſt note of it is his melancholy.
— Claud. And when was he wont to waſh his face?
is Pedro. Yea, or to paint himſelf? tor the which 1
hear what they fay of him.
hag Cland. Nay, but his jeſting ſpirit, which is now
crept into a lute- ſtring, and now govern'd by ſtops-----
Pedro. Indeed that tells a heavy tale for him. Con-
clude he is in love.
af Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him.
he Pedro. That would I know roo: I warrant one that
knows him not,
Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions, and in deſpight :
of all, dies tor him.
Pedro. She ſhall be buried with her face upwards.
43 Bene. Yet is this no Charm for the tooth ach. Old
; Signior, walk aſide with me, 1 have ſtudied eight or
nine wiſe words to ſpeak to you which theſe hobby-
* horſes muſt not hear.
* Edit. 1600. Paro,
36 Much Apo about NoTHINE.
Pedro. For my life to break with him about Beatrice,
Clau d. Tis even ſo. Hero and Margaret have by
this play'd their parts with Beatrice, and then the two
bears will not bite one another when they meer.
Enter Don John.
John. My lord and brother, God fave you.
Pedro. Good den, brother.
John. If your leiſure ſerv'd, I would ſpeak with
ou.
Pedro. In private? |
John. It it pleaſe you; yet Count Claudio may hear,
for what I would ſpeak of concerns him,
Pedro. What's the matter?
John. Means your lord ſhip to be married to- morrow.
[To Claudio.
Pedro. You know he does.
John. I know not that, when he knows what I know.
Claud. If there be any impediment I pray you dil-
cover it.
John. You may think I love you not, let that ap-
pcar hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now
will manifeſt; for my brother, I think he holds you
well, and in dearneſs of heart hath holp to effect your
enſuing marriage; ſurely, ſuit ill ſpent, and labour ill
beſtow'd.
Pedro. Why, what's the matter ?
Jahn. I came hither to tell you, and circumſtances
fhorten'd, (tor ſhe hath been too long a talking of) the
lady is diſloyal.
Claud. Who, Hero ?
John. Even ſhe, Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every
man's Hero.
Claud. Diſloyal?
Jebn. The word is too good to paint out her wic -
kedneſc; I could ſay ſhe were worſe; think you of a
wor ſe tule, and I will fi: her to it: wonder not till
further warrant ; go but with me to-night, you ſhall
jee her chamber-window enter'd, even the night be-
fore her wedding-day ; if you love her, then to-mor-
row wed her; but it would better fit your - honour to
change your mind.
Gaud.
My a my
Oc
Mucn Apo about NoTHING. 37
Claud. May this be fo?
Pedro. Iwill not think it.
John. If you dare not traſt that you ſee, confeſs
not that you know; if you will follow me, I will ſhew
you enough; and when you have ſeen more and heard
more, proceed accordingly,
Claud. If I ſee any thing to-night why I ſhould
not marry her to-morrow, in the congregation where
I ſhould, there will I ſhame her.
Pedro. And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I
will join with thee to diſgrace her,
John. I will diſparage her no farther, till you are
my witneſſes; bear it coldly but till night, and let the
iſſue ſhew itſelf,
Pedro. O day untowardly turned !
Claud. O miſchief ſtrangely thwarting!
John. O plague right well prevented!
So will you ſay when you have ſeen the ſequel.
Exeunt.
SCE N E, The Street.
Enter Dogberry and Verges, with the watch.
Dogb. Are you good men and true?
Verg. Yea, or elſe it were pity but they ſhould ſaf-
fer falvation, body and foul.
Dog6. Nay, that were a puniſhment too good for
them, if they ſhould have any allegiance in them, be-
ing choſen for the Prince's watch.
p Ferg. Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dog-
erry.
Dogs. Firſt, who think you the moſt diſartleſs man
to be conſtab.e?
i Watch. Hugh Oatecake, Sir, or George Seacoal; for
they can write and read.
Dogb. Come hither, neighbour Seaccal : God hath
bleſt you with a good name; to be a well-favour'd
man is the gift of fortune, but to write and read
comes by nature.
2 Watch. Both which, maſter conſtable
Dogb. You have; I knew it would be your anſwer.
Well, for your favour, Sir, why give God thanks,
and
33 Muc Apo about NoTHING.
and make no ooaſt of it; and for your writing and
reading, let that appear when there is no need ot
ſuch vanity: you aie thought here to be the moſt
ſenſeleſs and fir min for the conſtabie of the watch,
therefore bear you the lanthorn ; this is your charge;
you ſhall comprehend all vagrom men, ycu are to
bid any man ſtand in the Prince's name,
2 Waich. How if he will not ſtand?
Dogb. Why then take no note of him, but let him
o, and preſently call the ieſt of the watch together,
and thank God you ire rid of a knave.
Verg. If he will not ſtand when he is bidden, he ,
is none of the Prince's ſubjects.
Dog b. True, and they are to medd!e with none but
the Prince's ſubjects: you ſhall alſo make no noiſe ir
the ſtreets; for, for the watch to babble and talk, is
molt tole1able, and not to be eadur'd.
2 Watch, We will rather {1:ep than talk; we know
what belongs to a wa ch.
Dogb. Why you ſpeak like an ancient and moſ-
quiet wa:chman. for I cannot ſee how ſleeping ſhould +:
offend; only have a care that your bills be not ſto-
len: well, you are to call at all the alehouſes, and
bid them that are drunk get them to bed.
2 Watch. How if they w il not?
Dogb. Why then let them alone: 'til they are ſober ;
if they make you not then the better anſwer, you m3;
ſay they are not the men you took them for,
2 Hatch. Well, Sir.
Deg If you meer a thief, you may ſuſpect him b;
virtue of your office to be no true men; and for ſuch
kind of men, the leſs you meddle or make with them,
why the more is for your honeſty.
2 Watch, If we know him to be a thief, ſhall wc
not lay hands on him?
Dogd. Truly by your office you may; bur I thin!
they that touch pitch will be defil'd, the moſt peace
able way for you, if you do take a thief, is to let
him ſhew himſelf what he is, and ſteal out of you;
— =
Partner, Dog“.
Moch Apo about NoTHING. 39
Dogb. Truly I would not hang a dog by my will,
much more a man who hath any honeſty in him.
Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you muſt
call to the nurſe and bid her ſt ill it.
2 Hatch. How it the nurſe be aſleep, and will not
hear us ?
Dogb. Why then depart in peace, and let the child
wake her with crying: for the ewe that will not kear
her lamb when it bacs, will never anſwer a calf when
he bleats.
Verg. 'Tis very true.
Dog. This is the end of the charge you, conſta-
ble, are to preſent the Prince's own perſon, if you
meet the Prince in the night you may ſtay him.
Verg. Nay brrlady, that I think he cannot.
Dzags. Five ſhillings to one on't with any man that
knows the ſtatutes, he may ſtay him; marry, not with-
out the Prince be willing : for indeed the watch ought
to offend no man; and it is an offence to itay a man
againſt his will,
Verg. Birlady, I think it be fo.
Dog. Ha, ha, ha! well, maſters, good night; an
there be any matter of weight chances, call up me;
keep your tellow's counſel] and your own, and good
night; come neighbour,
2 Watch. Well, maſters, we hear our charge; let
us go fit here upon the church- bench *cill two, and
then all to bed.
Dog. One word more, honeſt neighbours. I pray
you watch about Signior Leonato's door, for the wed -
ding being there to-morrow, there is a great coil to-
night; adieu; be vigilant I beſcech you.
Exeunt Dogb. and Verg.
Enter Borachio and Conrade.
Bora. What, Conrade ?
Watch. Peace, ſtir not, LAſide.
Bora. Conrade, I ſay.
Conr. Here man, I am at thy elbow.
Bora. Maſs and my elbow itch'd, I thought there
would a ſcab follow,
Corr. I will owe thee an anſwer for that, and now -
fer ward with thy tale, Bara.
40 Moch Apo about NOTHING.
Bora. Stand thee cloſe then under this pent-hou ſe,
for it drizles rain, and I will, like a true drunkard,
utter all to thee.
Watch. Some treaſons, miſters; yet ſtand cloſe.
Bora Therefore know, I have earned of Don John
a thouland ducats.
Conr. Is it poſſible that any villany ſhould be fo
dear ?
Bora. Thou ſhould'ſt rather ask if it were poſſible
any villany ſhould be ſo rich? for when rich villains
have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what
price they will.
Conr. I wonder at it. :
Bora. That ſhews thou art unconfirm'd, thou kaow-
eſt that the faſhion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak,
is nothing to a man.
Conr. Yes, it is apparel,
Bora . I mean the faſhion.
Conr. Yes, the faſhion is the faſhion.
Bora. Tuſb, I may as well ſay the fool's the fool; but
ſeeſt thou not what adeformed thief this taſhion is?
Watch. 1 know that Deformed ; he has been a vile
thief this ſeven years; he goes up and down like a
entleman : I rcmember his name.
Bora. Didſt thou not hear ſome body?
Conr. No, twas the vane on the houſe.
Bora. Seeſt thou nor, I ſay, what a deformed thief
this faſhion is, how gid2ily he turns about all the hot-
bloods between fourteen and five and thirty, ſome-
times faſhioning them like Pharaoh's ſoldiers in the
* rechy painting, ſometimes like the God Bell's prieſts
in the old church-window, ſometimes like the ſhaven
Hercules in the ſmirch'd worm-eaten tapeſtry, where
his cod piece ſeems as maſſy as his club,
Conr. All this I f.e, and ſee that the faſhion wears
out more apparel than the man; bur art not thou thy
ſelf giddy with the faſhion, that thou haſt ſhifted our
of thy tale into telling me of the faſhion ?
Bora. Not ſo neither; but know that I have to-
night wooed Margaret, the lady Hero's AE,
J
* rechic, valuable,
4
Much Apo about NOTHING. 41
, by the Name of Hero; ſhe leans me out at her mi-
, ſtreſs's chamber-window, bids me a thouſand times
wy night I tell this tale vildly [ ſhould
ſt tell thee how the Prince, Claudio, and my maſter
e planted and placed, and poſſeſſed by my maſter Don
, John, ſaw far off in the orchard this amiable encoun-
ter.
Conr. And thought thy Margaret was Hero?
e Bora. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio,
but the devil my maſter knew ſhe was Margaret; and
0 par:ly by his oaths which firſt poſſeſt them, partly by
* the dark night which did deceive them, but chiefly by
my villany, which did confirm any flander that Don
John had made; away went Claudio enraged, ſwore
B he would meet her as he was appointed next morn-
ing at the temple, and there before the whole con-
gregation ſhame ter with what he ſaw o'er night, and
fend her home again without a husband. |
I Watch, We charge you in the Prince's name ſtand.
it 2 Match. Call up the right maſter conſtable, we have
here recovered the moſt dangerous piece of lechery
that ever was known in the com mon- wealth.
N i Watch. And one Deformed is one of them; I know
him, he wears a lock.
Conr. Maſters, maſters,
2Watch, You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I
f - warrant you.
= - Conr. Maſters, never ſpeak, we charge you, let us
9 obey you to go with us.
* Zora. We are like to prove a goodly commodity,
„„ being taken up of theſe mens bills.
155 Conr. A commodity in queſtion I warrant you:
e come well obey you. | [ Exennt.
'S SCEN E, Leonato's Houſe.
Y
Enter Hero, Margaret and Urſula.
Hero. Good Urſula, wake my coulin Beatrice, and
_ deſire her to riſe. ;
> Ufa. 1 will, lady.
Here. And bid her come hither,
| : Uu.
42 Moch Abo about NOTHING.
Ur/u. Well,
Marg. Troth I think your other rebato were better, a
Hero. No, pray thee good Meg, III wear this. 5
Marg. By my troth it's not ſo gocd, and I warrant you
Jour coulin wil! ſay ſo. he
Hero, My ccuſfia's a fool, and thou art another, II /
wear none hut this,
Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, if the
hair were a thought browner; and your gown's 1
molt fare ſaſhion 1'faith. I ſaw the Dutchels of A..
lan's gown that they praiſe ſo. 7
Hero. O, that exceeds, they ſiy. N 1
Marg. By my troth, ic's but a night-gown in reſpect ,
of yours; cleth of gold and cuts, and lac'd with t. *
ver, ſet with pearls, down-lleeves, fide-fleeves and
Skirts, round, underborn with a blueiſh tinſel; but io:
a fine, queint, graceful and excellent faſhioa, yours , of
worth ten on't. |
Hero. God give me joy to wear it, for my heart :: Fe
exceeding heavy, 4”
Marg. Twill be heavier ſoon by the weight of uh
Man. s 1
Hero. Fie upon thee, art not aſham'd ? *
Marg. Of what, lady? of ſpeaking honourably? *
not marriage honourable in a beggar ? is not you | ,.-
lord honourable without marriage? 1 think you wout 4
have me ſay (faving your reverence) a husband.
bad thinking do not wreſt true ſpeaking, I'll offene
no body; is there any harm in the heavier for a hut 4 _
band? none I think, if it be the right husband, an 4
the right wife, otherwiſe 'tis light and not heavy; a 4 15
my lady Beatrice eiſe, here ſhe comes.
mo
F
4
a of
Enter Beatrice. J a
Hero. Good morrow, coz. FS:
Beat. Good morrow, {weet Hero. TY
Hero. Why how now? do you ſpeak in the ſick tune
Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks.
Marg. Clap us into Light o love; that goes witho! | ne
a burden; do you fing it, and I'll dance it. 2
Beat. Yes light o' love with your heels; then if you hi
husband have ſtables enough, you'll look he ſhall ad “
no barns. | Ma
arc
| Mucn Apo about NoTHING, 43
Marg O ilegitimate conſtruction! I ſcorn that with
my hecis.
Beat. 'Tis almoſt five a clock, couſin; 'tis time
you were ready: by my troth I am excceding ill,
1 hey ho
5 Marg. For a hawk, a horſe, or a husband?
the Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H.
as ; Marg. Well, if you be not turn'd Turk, there's no
- a;;, more {ailing by the Rar,
us Beat. What means the fool, trow ?
Marg. Nothing I, but God ſend every one their
fea heart's deſire,
- Hero. Theſe gloves the Count ſent me, they are an
ay excellent perfume,
5 Beat. I am ſtuft, couſin, I cannot ſmell. |
urs i; Marg. A maid and ſtuft! there's a goodly catching
of cold. 2 |
art: Beat. O God help me, God help me, how long have
you profeſt apprehenſion ?
of A Marg. Ever ſince you left it; doth not my wit be-
come me rarely?
Beat. It is not ſeen enough, you ſhouid wear it in
ly? : 4 Jour cap. By my. troth, I am ſick.
70 Marg. Get you ſome of this diſtilld Carduns Bene-
1 dictus, and lay it to your heart, it is the only thing
J. 14 br a qualm.
offene Hero. There thou prick'ſt her with a thilt'e.
a hul + Beat. Benedictus? why Benedictus you have ſome
an moral in this Benedictus.
Marg. Moral? no by my troth, I have no moral
meaning, I meant plain koly-thifie; you may think
perchance that I think you are in love, nay, bi'rlady,
J am not ſuch a fool to think what I liſt; nor I liſt
not to think what I can, nor indeed 1 cannot think,
tune if 1 would think my heart out with thinking, that you
are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you
ithor can be in love: yer Benedick was ſuch another, and
now is he become a man; he {wore he would never
f you 4 Marry, and yet now in de{pight of his heart he eats
111 laci g his meat without grudging; aud how you may be con-
MAN yerted.
ter.
rrant
44 Moch Apo about NoTHING.
|
verted I know not, but methinks you look with your por
eyes as other women do. | knavt
Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? | wn
Marg. Not a falſe gallop. | they
Urſa. Madam withdraw; the Prince, the Ccunt ps, it
Signor Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants ot Ferge
the town are come to fetch you to church.
Hero. Help to dreſs me, good coz, good Meg, goct PIC,
Ur/ula. Exe unt. 15 to
neigt
Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges. Le
Leon. What would you with me, honeſt neighbour: De
Dogb. Marry Sir, I would have ſome confidence wich 5
(
you that decerns you nearly.
Leon. Brief I pray you, for you ke tis a buſy time preb:
with me. | them
Dogb. Marry this it is, S'r. | Le
Ver. Yes in truth it is, Sir. i m
Leon. Whar is it, my good friends ?
Dogb. Goodman Feyges, Sir, ipeaks a little of the,
matter, an old man, Sir, and his wits are not ſo blunt
as God kelp I wou!d defire they were, but in faith a
honeſt as the skin between his brows. |
Verg. Yes, I thank God, I am as honeſt as any man ter t.
living, that is an old man and no honefter than J. L
Dogb. Compariſons are odorous, palabras, neigh- P
bour Verges. voal,
Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious. we *
Dog6. It pleaſes your worſhip to ſay fo, but we are F*
the poor Duke's officers; but truly for mine own
Part, if I were as tedious as a King, I could find in 4
my heart to beſtow it all of your worſhip. e
Leon. All thy tediouſneſs on me, ha? ind
Dog ô. Vea, and twice a thouſand times more than
"tis, for I hear as good exclamation on your worſhip
as of any man in thecity; and tho' I be but a poor
man, I am glad to hear it.
Verg. And ſo am I.
Leon. I would fain know what you have to ſay.
Verg. Marry Sir, our watch to-night, excepting your
wcrſhip's
Much Apo about NOTHING. 45
your worſhip's preſence, hath ta'en a couple as arrant
| knaves as any in AMeſſiza.
' Dogdb. A good old man, Sir, he will be talking as
they ſay; when the age is in, the wit is out, God help
cone! us, it is a world to ſer: well faid 1 faith, neighbour
ts of Lerges, well, he's a good man; an two men ride an
bhborle, one muſt ride behind; an honelt foul, i' faith
Sir, by my troth he is, as ever broke bread, but God
is to be worſhip'd; all men are not alike, alas good
ncighbour |
Leon. Indeed neighbour he comes too ſhort of yon.
Dog. Gifts that God gives.
Leon. 1 muſt leave you.
Dogs. One word, Sir; our watch have indeed com-
time prehended two auſpicious perſons, and we would have
them this morning examin'd before your worſhip.
Leon. Take their examination your ſelf, and bring
1 me, I am now in great haſte as may appear unto
| you.
f thel,, Dog 6. Ir ſhall be ſufigance.
blunt! Leon. Drink ſome wine ere you go: fare you well,
th a Enter a Meſſenger.
Ne My lord, they ſtay for you to give your daugh-
man ter to her husband. |
Leon. I'll wait upon them. I am ready [Ex. Leon.
eigh- Dogb. Go, good partner, go get you to Francis Sa-
woal, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the ail ;
we are now eto examine thoſe men,
re are Perg. And we muſt do it wilcly.
own Dogs We will ſpare for no wit, I warrant; here's
nd in 8 ſhall drive ſome of them to non- come. Only ger
e learned writer to ſet down our excommunication,
good
eHiit.
jour
Wich
pad meet me at the Jail, Exeunt.
than
r ſhip
poor
ACT
y.
your
46 Mucu Apo about NoTHING.
3 2 1
1A r o
Foren. —
en
Enter D. Pedro, D. John, Leonato, Friar, Claudio, | Ov
Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice. Cn
| Cor
LEONMATO. To
O ME. friar Francis, be brief, only to the plain] All.
form of marriage, and you ſhall recount their By |
particular duties after wards. She
Friar, You come hither, my lord, to marry this) Her
lady? I
Claud. No. C
Leon. To be marry'd to her, friar ; you come te] Not
marry her. J
Friar. Lady, you come hither to be marry'd to this} Hay
Count. | Anc
Hero. I do. 0
Friar. If either of you know any inward impedi-
ment why you ſhould not be conjoin'd, I charge you} You
on your ſouls to utter ir, Ane
Claud Know you any, Hero? No
Hero. None, my lord. In
Friar. Know you any, Count? But
Leon. | dare make his anſwer, none. 0
Claud. O what men dare do! what men may do! F
what men daily do! ul
Bene. How now! Interjeftions? why then ſome be! Yo
of laughing, as ha, ha, he! As
Claud. Stand thee by, friar: father, by your leave, But
Will you with free and unconſtrained ſoul, Th
Give me this maid your daughter ? | Th
Leon. As freely, fon, as God did give her me. | 3
Claud. And what have I to give you back, whoſe] ;
worth
May counterpoiſe this rich and precious gift ?
Pedro. Nothing, unleſs you render her again.
Claud.
| you
*
Moc Apo about NOTHING. 47
Claud. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankful»
neſs:
There Zeonato, take her cack again;
Give not is rotten oran_e to your friend.
She's but he ſign and ſ+'+ b'ange of her honour:
Behold how like a maid ſhe bluſhes here!
O what uthority and ſhew of truth
im cunning tin cover it ſelf witha!!
| Comes not that blood, as modeſt evidence,
To witneſs ſimple virtue? would you not ſwear,
All you that ſee her, that ſhe were a maid,
By theſe exterior ſhews ? bur ike :s none:
She knows the heat of a luxurious bed ;
| Her bluſh is guiltineſs, not modeſty.
Leon. What do you mean, my Lord?
Claud. Not to be marry'd,
Not knit my ſoul to an approved wanton.
Leon. Dear my Lord, if you in your own proof
Have vanquiſh'd the reſiſtance of her youth,
And made defeat of her virgioity
Claud. I know what you would {ay : if I have known
her,
You'll ay, ſhe did embrace me as a husband,
And ſo extenuate the forchand fin,
No, Leonato,
I never tempted her with word too large,
do!
je be
3 as a brother to his ſiſter, ſhew'd
Baſhful ſincerity, and comely love.
Hero. And ſcem'd I ever otherwiſe to you? _
Claud. Out on thy ſeeming, I will write againſt it;
You ſeem to me as Dian in her orb,
As chaſte as is the bud ere it be blown:
ave, |
|
That rage in
thoſe:
But you are more intemperate in your blood
Than Venus, or thoſe pamper'd animals
ſavage ſenſuality.
Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth ſpeak ſo wide?
Leon. Sweet Prince, why ſpeak not you ?
Pedro. What ſhould I ſpeak ?
I ſtand diſhonour'd, that have gone about
1 To link my dear friend to a common ſtale.
AH „
Leon, Ate theſe things ſpoken, or do 1 but dream?
Fohn,
2
%
48 Mucn Apo about NoTHING.
Fohn. Sir, they are ſpoken, and theſe things are
true.
Bene. This looks not like a nuptial.
Hero. True! O God!
Claud. Leonato, ſtand I here?
Is this the prince? Is this the prince's brother?
Js this face Hero's ? are our eyes our own ?
Leon, All this is ſo ; but what of this, my lord.
Claud. Let me but move one queſtion to your
daughter,
And by that fatherly and kindly power
That you have in her, bid her anſwer truly:
Leon. ] charge thee do fo, as thou art my child.
Hero. O God defend me, how am 1 beſet !
What kind of catechizing call you this?
Leon, To make you anſwer truly to your name.
Hero. Is it not Hero? who can blot that name
With any juſt reproach ?
Claud, Marry that can Hero;
Hero her ſelf can blot out Hero's virtue. |
What man was he talk'd with you yeſternight bl
Our at your window betwixt twelve and one ?
Now if you are a maid anſwer to this.
Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my Lordi
Pedro. Why then you are no maiden, Leonato.
I am forry you muſt hear; upon mine honour,
My ſelf, my brother, and this grieved Count *
Did ſee her, hear her, at that hour laſt night
Talk with a ruffian at her chamber- window, |
Who hath indeed, molt like a liberal villain,
Confeſs d the vile encounters they have had
A thouſand times in ſecret,
Fohn. Fie, fie, they are not to be nam'd, my Lord,
Not to be ſpoken of;
There is not chaſtity enough in language,
Without offence, to utter them : thus, pretty lady,
I am ſorry for thy much miſgovernment.
Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadſt thou been,
If half thy outward graces had been plac'd
About the thoughts and counſels of thy heart ?
Bug are thee well, moſt foul, moſt fair! farewel,
:
%
out
2d;
2d,
hog |
Much Apo about NOTHING, 49
Thou pure impiety, and impious purity !
For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love,
And on my eyelids ſhall conjecture hang,
To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm,
And never ſhall it more be gracious.
Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me?
Beat. Why how now, couſin, wherefore tink you
down ?
Fohn. Come, let us go; theſe things come thus to
light,
Smother , Spirits up.
[ Exeunt D. Pedro, D. John, and Claud.
Bene. How doth the lady?
Beats. Dead I think; help, uncle.
Hero! why Hero ! uncle! Signior Benedict! friar !
Leon. O fare! take not away thy heavy hand,
Death is rhe faireſt cover tor her ſhame
That may be wiſh'd for.
Beat How now, couſin Hero ?
Friar. Have comfort, Lady.
Leon Doſt thou look vp?
Friar, Yea, wheretore ſhould ſhe not?
Leon. Wherefore ? why dorh not every earthly thing
Cry ſhame upon her? cou} ſhe here deny
The ſtory that is printed in her blood?
Do nor live, Hero, do nor ope thine eyes:
For did I think thou wouldft not quickly die,
Thought I thy ſpirits were ſtronger than thy ſhames,
My ſelt would on the rereward of feproaches
Strike at thy lite. Griev'd I, I had but one?
Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame?
I've one too much by thee. Why had I one?
Why ever walt thou lovely in mine eyes?
Why had not I, with charirable hand,
Took up a begpar's iſſue at my gates?
Who ſmeered thus, and mir'd with infamy,
I might have ſaid, no part of it is mine,
This ſhame derives itſelf from unknown loins:
But mine, and mine | lov'd, and mine } pr.'s'd,
And mine that I was proud on, mine ſo much,
That I my felt was to my ſelt not mine,
* Valuir g
- — - = —
— — ,
50 Much Apo about NOTHING.
Valuing of her; why ſhe, O ſhe is fall'n
Into a pit of ink, that the wide {ea
Hati drops too tew ro waſh her clean again,
And ſalt too little which may ſeaſon give
To her foul tainted fleſh.
Bene. Sir, Sir, be patient;
For my part, I am {ſv attic'd in wonder,
I know not what to lay.
Beat. O, on my foul my couſin is beiy'd.
Bene. Lady, were you her bedicilow laſt night ?
Beat. No truly, not; altho' until laſt night
I have this twelvemonth been her bedftcl.ow.
Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd! O that is ſtronger made:
Which was before barr'd vp with ribs of iron.
Would the Prince lye? and Claudio would he lye,
Who lov'd her ſo, that {peaking of her foulneſs,
Wafn'd it with tears? h-cnce from her, let her die,
Friar. Hear me a iltt!e,
For I have only been t1!-at ſo long.
And given way unto this courſe of fortune,
By noting of the lady. I have mark'd
A thouſand bluſhing apparitions
To ſtart into her face, a thouſand innocent ſhames
In angel whiteneſs bear away thoſe bluſhes,
And in her eye there hath appear'd a ſire
To burn the errors that theſe princes hold
Againſt her maiden truth. Call me a fool,
Truſt not my reading, nor my obſervations,
Which with experimental ſeal doth warrant
The tenure of my book ; truſt not my age,
My reverence, calling, nor divinity,
Tf this ſweet lady lie not guiltleſs here,
Under ſome biting error.
Leon. Friar, it cannot be:
Thou ſeeſt that all the grace that ſhe hath left,
Is, that ſhe will not add to her damnation
A ſin of perjury, ſhe not denies it:
Why ſeek'ſt thou then to cover with excuſe,
That which appears in proper nakedneſe?
Fryar. Lady, what man 1s he you are accus'd of ?
Hero. They know that do accuſe me, I know none:
It
Moch Apo about NOTHING. 51
it 1 know more of any man alive
Tagan that which maiden modeſty doth warrant,
Let all my ſins lack mercy. O my father,
Prove you that any man with me convers'd
At hours unmcet, or that | yeternigat at
XIaintain'd the change of words with any creature,
Refule me, hare me, torture me to death,
Friar. The: re is ſome ſtrange miſpriſion in the Princes,
Bene. Two of them have the very bent of Konour,
And if their wiſdoms be miſ-led in this,
The practice of it lives in 709 the baſtard,
Whole ſpirits toil in frame of vi.lanies.
Leon. I know not: if they ſpeak but truth of her,
Theſe hands ſhall tear her; 1t they wrong her honour,
The proudeſt of them ſhall well hear of it.
Time hath not yet fo dry'd this blood of mine,
Nor age ſo eat up my invention,
Nor fortune made ſuch havock of my means,
Nor my bad lite rett me ſo much of friends,
But they ſhall find awak'd in ſuch a kind,
Both ſtrength of limb, and policy of mind,
Ability in means, and Choice of friends,
To quit me of them throughty
Friar. Pauſe a hi 5
And let my couni: | ſway you in this caſe,
Your Daughter here the princeſs (ett ſor dead)
et her awhile be ſecretly Kept in,
And publiſh it that ſhe is dead indeed:
Maintain 2 mournin 8 oſtentation,
And on your family's od monument
Hanz mournful Epit phs, and do all rites
That appertain unto a burial.
Leon. What ſhal become of this? what will this do?
Friar. Marry, this well carry'd, ihail on her behalf
Change ſl: nder to remo: ſe ; that is ſome god
But not for that dre im Ion this ſtrange courte,
But on this travel look for greater bi:th :
She dying, as it inuſt be ſo mintain'd,
Upon the inſtant that ſhe was accus'd,
Shall be lamented, pity'd, and excus'd,
4 Ot
r
52 Much Apo about NoTHING.
Of every hearer: for it ſo falls out,
That what we have we prize not to the worth,
While we enjoy it; but being lack'd and loſt,
Why then we rack the value, then we find
The virtue that poſſeſſion would not ſhew us
Whilſt it was ours; fo will it fare with Claudio:
* When he ſhall hear ſhe dy'd vpon his words,
Th' idea of her“ love thall ſweetly creep
Into his ſtudy of imagination,
And every lovely organ of her life
Shall come apparel'd in more precious habit;
More moving, delicate, and full of life,
Into the eye and proſpect of his ſoul,
Than when ſhe liv'd indeed. Then ſhall he mourn,
K ever love had intereſt in his liver,
And wiſh he had not fo accuſed her;
No, though he thought his accuſation true:
Let this be ſo, and doubt not but ſucceſs
Will faſhion the event in better ſhape
Than I can lay it down in likelihood.
But if all aim but this be levell'd falſe,
The ſuppoſition of the lady's death
Will quench the wonder of her infamy.
And if it ſort not well, you may conceal her,
As beſt befits her wounded reputation,
In ſome reclutive and religious life,
Out of ail eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries.
Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar adviſe you:
And though you know my inwardneſs and love
Is very much unto the Prince and Claudio,
Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this
As ſecretly and juſtly, as your ſoul
Should with your body.
Leon. Being that I flow in grief,
The ſmalleſt twine may lead me.
Friar, Tis well conſented, preſently away,
vor to ſtrange ſores, ſtrangely they ſtrain the cure.
Come, lady, die to live; this wedding-day
Perhaps is but prolorg'd: have patience and en-
dure. | [ Exeunt.
Maneni
* /jft.
MucH Apo about NOTHING, 53
Manent Benedick and Beatrice.
Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while ?
Beat. Yea, and | will weep a while longer.
Bene 1 will not deſire that.
Beat. You have no reaſon, I do it freely.
Bene. Surely I do believe your fair couſin is wrong'd.
Beat. Ab how much might the man deſerve of me
thit would right her? | |
Bene. Is there any way to ſhew ſuch friendfhip?
Beat. A very even way, butno ſuch friend.
Bene. May a man do it?
Beat. It is a man's office, but not yours.
Bene. I do love nothing in the world ſo well as you;
is not that ſtrange ? |
Beat. As ſtrange as the thing I know not; it were
as poſſible for me to ſay, I loved nothing ſo well as
you; but believe me not; and yet I lye not; I con-
feſs nothing, nor I deny nothing. Iam ſorry for my
couſin.
Bene. By my ſword, Beatrice, thou lov'ſt me.)
Beat. Do not ſwear by it and eat it.
Bene. I will ſwear by ic that you love me; and I
will make him eat it that ſays I love you not.
Beat. Will you not eat your word?
Bene. With no ſuuce that can be devis'd to it; I pro-
teſt 1 loye thee
Beat, Why then God forgive me.
Bene. What offence, ſweer Beatrice ?
Beat. You have ſtay'd me in a happy hour; I Was
about to proteſt I lov'd you.
Bene. And do it with all thy heart.
Beae. I love you with ſo much of my heart, that
none is left to proteſt,
Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee.
Peat. Kill Claudio,
Bene. Ha! not for the wide world.
Beat. You kill me to deny; farewel.
Bene. Tarry, ſweet Beatrice.
Beat. 1 am gone, tho'l am here; there is no love in
you; nay, I pray you let me go.
Bene. Beatrice.
C 3 Beat.
54 Much Apo about NoTHBING.
Beat. In faith, IT wil! go,
Beae. We'll be friends firſt.
Beat. You dare eaſier be friends With me, than figh”
with mine enemy.
Bene. Is Claudio thice enemy *
Beat. Is he not approved in the height a viſain
that hath flander'd, Icorn'd, diſhonou: d my r iw eo:
man! O that 1 were a man! what bear her in hand,
until they come to take hands, and then with publick.
accuſation, uncover'd flander, unmitigated ranc ou
O God that I were a man, I would eat his heart in the
market place.
Bene. Hear me, Beatrice.
Beat. Talk with a man out at à window ——2
proper ſaying!
Bene Nay, but Beatrice.
Beat. Sweet Hero ! ſhe is wrong'd, ſhe is Lander'd,
ſhe is undone. :
Bene. But —
Beat. Princes and Counts! ſurely a princely teſti-
mony, a goodly count- comfect, a ſweet gallant ſurely !
O that I were a man for his ſake! Or that I had any
friend would be a man for my ſake! but manhood
is melted into curteſies, valour into compliment, and
men are only turn'd into tongue, and trim ones too;
he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lye,
and {wears it; I cannot be a man with wiſhing, there-
tore I will die a woman with gricving.
Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice? by this hand I love thee.
Beat. Uſe it tor my love ſome other way than ſwear—
ing by it.
Bene. Think you in your ſoul the Count Claudio
hath wrong'd Hero ?
Beat. Yea, as ſure as I have a thought or a ſoul.
Bene. Enough, I am engag'd, I will challenge him,
I will kiſs your hand, and ſo leave you; by this hand,
Claudio ſhall render me dear account; as you hear of
me, ſo think of me; go comfort your couſin, 1 meſt
tay ſhe's dead, and io farewel, Exeunt.
Enter
Moch Apo about NOTHING. 55
Euter Dogberry, Verges, Borachio, Conrade, the
Town-Clerk and Sexton in Gowns. ,
To. Cl. Is our whole diſſembly app-ar'd?
Dog. O, a ſtool and cuſhion for the ſexton!
Sexton. Which be the malefactors?
yerg. Marry, that am I and my partner.
Dog. Nay, that's certain, we have the exhibition to
Amine.
Sexton, But which are the offenders that are to be
examin'd 7 let them come before maſter conltav.e.
To. Cl. Yea mary, let them come before ne; What
s „our name, f iend?
Nera Boraceio. |
To. Ct. Pray write down, Borachio. Youre, Sirran ?
Corr. I am a gentieman, Sir, and my name is Cen-
rade.
1o. Cl, Write down maſter gentleman Conrade;
maſters, do you ſerve God? maſters, it is proved al-
ready that you are little better than ialſe knaves, and
it will go near to be thought ſo ſhortly; how anliwer
you for your ſelves?
Conr. Marry, Sir, we ſay we are none.
To. Cl. A marvellous wiity fellow 1 aſſure yon, bat
J will go about with him. Come you hither, firrah,
a word in your ear, Sir; I fay ro you, ic is thought
you are falſe knaves. |
Bora. Sir, I {ay to you, we are none.
To. Cl. Well, ſtand aſide, fore God they are both in
a tale: have you writ down that they are none?
Sexton. Maſter town-clerk, you go not the way to
examine, you muſt call the watch that are their ac-
cuſers,
To. Cl. Yea, marry, that's the eaſieſt way, let the
watch come forth; maſters, 1 charge you in the prince's
name accuſe theſe men.
Enter Watchmen.
1 Watch. This man faid, Sir, that Don 7ohn the
prince's brother was a villain.
To. Cl. Write down, prince Fohz a villain why this
is flat perjury, to call a princc's brother villain.
Bora, Maſter towyn- cler k.
4 To. Ct:
56 Moch Apo about NoTHING.
To. Cl. Pray thee tellow peace, I do not like thy look,
I promi.e thee.
Sexton. What heard you him ſay elſe?
2 Watch. Marry, lat he had receiv'd a thouſand ducats
of Don John, for accuſing che lady Hero wrongfully.
To. C!. Flar Burg ary as ever was committed.
Dogb. Yea by th' Mals that it is.
Sexton. What elie, fellow ?
t Watch. And that Count Ciaudio did mean, upon
his words, to diſgrace Hero before the whole aſſembly,
and not marry her.
To. CJ. O villain! thou wilt be condemi''d into ever-
laſting redemption for this.
Sexton. What che?
2 Watch This is all.
Sexton. Ard this is more, maſters, than you can de-
ny. Prince 7chn is this morning ſecretly ſtoll'n away:
Hero was in this manner acca-'d, and in this very man-
rer refus'd, and upon the grief of this ſuddenly dy'd.
-
ALT re eee rat r
Nlaner conſtable, let theſe men be bound and brought *
to Legnato; I will go before, and ſhew him their ex-
aminatiou.
5 Deb. Come, let them be opinion'd.
þ Sexton. Let them be in the hands of Coxcemb. [ Exit.
Jogb. God's my Lite, where's the ſexton? let him
write down the Piince's officer Coxcomb: come, bind
; them, thon naughty varlet. F
? Corr Away, you are an aſs, you are an aſs.
0 Nozb. Dolt thou not ſuſpect my place? doſt thou not
| {n{pect my years? O that he were here to write me down
4 an ais ! but maſters, remember that I am an aſs, though
| it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an als;
no, thou viliain, thou art full of piety, as ſhall be prov'd
upon thee by good witneſs; J am a wiſe fellow, and
which is more, an officer; and which is more, an houſ-
Holder; and which is more, as pretty a piece of fleſh as
[ any in Mina, and one that knows the law, go to,
x and a rich fellow enough, go to, and a fellow that hath
| had loſſes, and one that hath two gowns, and every
ting handiome about him: bring him away; O that
LI kad been writ dov.n an aſs! [ Exeunt,
ACT
Mucn Apo about NoTHING, 57
ACE Ä
Before Leonato's Houſe.
Enter Leonato and Antonio.
ANTON10.
F you go on thus, you will kill your ſelf,
And *us not wiſdom thus to ſecond grief,
Againſt your ſelf.
Leo. I pray thee ceaſe thy counſel,
Which falls into mine cars as profitleſs
As water in a ſieve; give not me counſel,
Nor let no comfort eite delight mine ear,
But ſuch a one whoſe wrongs doth ſute with mine.
Bring me a father that io lov'd his child,
Whole joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine,
And bid him ſpeak of patience;
Meaſure his woe the length and breadth of mine,
And let it anſwer every ſtrain for firain:
As thus for thus, and ſuch a grief for ſuch,
In every lincament, branch, ſhape and form;
If fuch a one will ſmile and ſtreke his beard,
And “ hallgw, wag, cry hem, when he ſhould groan.
Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk
' With candle-waſters; bring him yet to me,
* And I of him wall gather patience.
* But there is no ſuch man; for brother, men
Can counſel, and give comfort to that griet
Which they themielves not feel; but tafting iz,
Their counſel turns to paſſion, which before
Would give preceptial medicine to rage,
Fetter ſtrong madneſs ina ſilken thread,
Charm ach with air, and agony with words..
No, no, 'tis all mew's office, to ſpeak patience
To thoſe that wring under the load of forrow
But no man's virtue nor ſufficiency
To be ſo moral, when he ſhall endure
? ſorrow, C 5 * The
58 Moc Apo about NOTHING.
The like himlelf; therefore give me no counſel,
* My griets crx louder than advertiſement.
Ant. 'I'hereindo men from children nothing differ.
Leon. I pray thee peace; I will be fleſh and blood;
For there was ncver yet philoſopher,
That could endure the tooth-ach en ;
« Howe ver they have writ the ityle ct Gods,
And made a Pih at chance and ſufferance.
Ant. Vet bend not all the harm upon your ſelf,
Make thoſe that do offend you ſuffer too.
Leon. There thou ipeakit reaion, Nay I will do ſo.
My toul Goth tell me Hero is bely'd,
And that ihall C/audio lznow, fo ſhall the Prince,
and all of them that thus diſhonour her.
Enter Don Pedro and Claudio.
Ant. Here comes the Prince and C/auds hafliily.
Laue, Good An. good den.
Claud. Good day to both of you,
Leon. Hear you, My lords?
Pero. We have ſome haite, Leonats.
Leon. Some haite, my lord! weil, fare you well,
ny lord.
Are you iv haſty now? well, all is one.
Pedro. Nav, do not quarrel with us, good old man.
Ant. If he could right him{elf with quarrelling,
Some of us would he low.
Ciaud., Who wrongs nim ?
Leon. Marry thou doit wrong me, thou Caitembler
ti „
Nay never lay thy hand upon thy ſword,
1 fear thee not.
Cloud. Marry, beſhrew my hand,
If it ſnould give your age iuch cauſe of fear;
In faith my hand meant nothing to my {word.
. on. P'uſh, tuſn, man, never fleer and jeſt at me ;
J ſpeak not lig a doturt nor a ſoo,
As under j riy nege oi age to brag, i
What I have done being young, or what would do,
Were I not old: know Claudio, to thy head,
"thou haft ſo wrong'd my innocent child and me,
Tnat 1 am forc'd to lay my reverence by,
And
Wn * 2
R „
Moch Abo about NOTHING. 59
And with grey hairs and bruiſe of many Cays
Do challenge thee to tryal of a man
ſay, thou aſt bely'd my innocent child;
Thy ſlander hath gone through ard through her heart;
And the lies bury'd with her anceſtors,
O in a tomb where never ſcandal pt,
Save this of here, fram'd by thy villany !
Claud. Niy viilany ?
Lev. Thine Claudio, thine I ſay.
Pedro. You {ay not right, old man.
Leen. My lord, my lord,
II prove it on his body if he dare ;
Deſpight his nice fence and his active practice,
His May of youth and bloom ot luſtyhood.
Claud. Away, I will not have to do with you.
Leon. Canſt thou ſo + daffe me ? thou haſt kill'd
my child ;
If thou kill'ſt me, boy, thou ſhalt kill a man.
Ant. He ſhall kill two of us, and men indeed;
But that's no matter, let him kill one firſt;
Win me and wear me, let him aniwer me ;
Come, follow me, boy, come boy, follow me,
>ir boy, I'll whip you from your | foining £-nce ;
Nay, as I am a gentlewan, I will.
J. en. Brother.
Ant. Content your ſelf; God knows I lov'd my neice;
And ſhe is dead, ſlander'd to death by villains,
That dare as w ell anſwer a man indeed,
As [ dare take a ſerpent by the rongue.
Boys, apes, braggarcs, jacks, miikiops !
Leon. Brother Antony.
Ant. Hold you content; what, man? I know them,
YE
And what ther weigh, even to the utmoſt ſcruple:
Scambling, out- facing, faſhion-mongring boys,
That lye, and cog, and flout, deprave and Kander
60 antickly „and ſhow an outward hideouſneſs,
And ſpeak of halt a dozen dangerous words,
How they. might hurt their encmies if they durſt ;
And this is all. ; Leon.
F dafte, a co: try or J fan daunt.
| ſoining, puſtäng, 9 mating a faſi in fencing.
66 Much Ado about NOTHING:
Lean. But brother Anthony,
Ant. Come, tis no matter,
Do not vou meddle, let me deal in this.
Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your pa-
My heart is {orry for your daughter's death; [tience.
But on my honour the was charg'd with nothing
But what was true, and very full of proof.
Lean. Niy lord, my lord
Pedro. 1 will not hear you.
Lean. No! come brother away, I will be heard.
.1:t. And ſhail, or ſome of us will ſmart for it.
[Exe. ambo.
Enter Benedick.
Pedro. See, fee, here comes the man we went to ſeek.
Clara. Now Signior, what news?
Rene. Good day, my lord.
Pedro. Welcome Signior; you are. almoſt come to
part almoſt a tray.
Claud. We had like to have had our two noſes
napt off with two old men without teeth.
Pedro. Leonato and his brother; what think'ſ thou? *
nad we fought, I doubt we thould have been too young
tor them.
Bere. In a falſe quarrel there is no true valour: I
ame to icek you both.
Claud. We have. been up and down to ſeek thee,
for we are high proof melancholly, and would fain
nave it braten away: wilt thou ule thy wit? þ
Bene. It is in my ſcabbard; ſhail I draw it?
Pedro. Doit thou wear thy wit by thy fide?
Claud. Never any did io, though very many have 1
been beſide their wit. 1 will bid thee draw, as we do
the minſtrels; draw to pleaſure us.
Pedro. As I am an honeſt man he looks pale: 22.
thou ſick or angry?
Claud. What! courage man: what tho care Kil'd
a cat, thou haſt mettle enough in thee to Kill care.
Bene. Sir, I ſhall meet your wit in tac career, if you
charge it againſt me. I pray you chuſe another ſub) 2:
Claud. Nay, then give him another ſtaff, this laſt
was heoke crols. |
Peda.
$
14
|
*
&}
8
2
E
*
3
|
|
;
Moch Apo about NOTHING. 61
Pedro. By this light, he changes more and more:
I think he be angry indeed.
Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle,
Bene. Shall I ſpeak a word in your ear?
Claud. God bleſs me from a challenge!
Bene. You are a Villain; I jeſt not. I will make it
good how you dare, with what you dare, and when
you dare. Do me right, or I will preteſt your cowar-
diſe. You have kil'd a ſweet lady, and her death
ſhall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you.
Claud. Well, 1 will meet you, ſa I may have good
cheer.
Pedro. W hat, a feaſt ?
Claud. I' faith I thank him, he hath bid me to a
calves-head and a capon, the which if I do not carve
molt curiouily, fay my knife's naught. Shall 1 not
find a woodcock too ?
Bene. Sir, your wit ambles well, it goes eaſily.
Pedro. Il! tell thee how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the
other day: I ſaid thou hadſt a fine wit; right, ſays ſhe,
a fine little one; no, ſaid I, a great wit; uſt, ſaid ſhe,
a great groſs one; nay ſaid I, a good wit; juſt, ſaid
ſhe, it hurts no body; nay ſaid I, the gentleman. is wile ;
certain, {aid ſhe, a wiſe gentleman; nay ſaid I, he
hath the tongues; that I believe, ſaid ſhe, for he
ſwore a thing to me on Monday night which he forſwore
on Tueſday morning; there's a double tongue, there's
two tongues. Thus did ſhe an hour together tranſ-
ſhape thy particular virtues, yet at laſt ſhe concluded
with a ſigh, thou wait the propereſt man in 7taly.
Claud. For the which ſhe wept heartily, and ſaid
ſhe car'd not.
Pedro. Yea, that fhe did; but yet for all that, and
if ſhe did not hate him deadly, ſhe would love him
dearly ; the old man's daughter told us all.
Claud. All, all; and moreover, Ged ſaw him when
he was hid in the garden.
Pedro. But when ſhall we ſet the falvage bull's horns
on the ſenſible Benedick's head?
Claud. Vea, and text underneath, here dwells Be-
zedick the married man.
Bene.
62 Much A Do about NOTHING.
Bene. Fare you well, boy, you know my mand, I
will leave you now to your goſſip-like humour; you
break jeſts as braggards do their blades, which God be
thank'd hurt not. My lord, for your many courtelies
I thank you; I mutt diſcontinue your company; your
Erother the baſtard is fled from Mag ra az you have a-
mong vou kuled a ſweet and innocent lady, F or my
lord lack-beard there, he and 1 mall mect, and till
then peace be with him. [Exit Benedick.
Pearce. He is in earneſt.
Claud. In molt profound earneſt, and Il: warrant
you for the love of Beatrice.
Pedro. And hath challeng'd thee ?
Claud. Moſt ſincerely.
Pedio. What a pretty thing man is, when he gcc
in his doublet and hoſe, and leaves off his wit !
Enter Dogberry, Verges, Conrade and Borackio
uud.
Claud. He is then a giant to an ape, but then 1:
an ape a doctor to ſuch a man.
Pedro. But ſoft you, let me ſee, pluck up my hear
and be tad, did he not ſay my brother was fed?
Doeb. Come you, Sir, it juſtice canndt tame von,
ſhe ſhall ne'er weigh more reaions in her balance; nay,
it You be a curling hypocrite Once, „on muſt be lock d
£9,
Pedro. How now, two of my brother's men bound
Borachio one!
Claud. Hearken after their offence, my lord.
Pedro. Officers, what offence have theſe men done:
Dogb. Marry, Sir, they have committed falſe re-
port, moreover they have ſpoken untruths ; teconda-
rily they are ſlanders; fixth and laſtly, they have =
ly'd a lady; thirdly, they have verify'd unjuſt thing
and to conclude, they are lying knaves.
Pedro. Firſt, I ask thee what they have done; third-
ly, 1 ask thee what's their offence; ſixth and laſtly,
why they are committed; and to conclude, what you
lay to their charge?
'Claud. Rightly reaſon'd, and in his own diviſion ;
and by my troth, there's one meaning well ſuited.
Pere,
Mucn Apo about NoTHING, 63
Pedro. Whom have you oftended, maſters, that you
are thus bound to your anſwer? This learned conſta-
ble is too cunning to be underſtood. W hat's your of-
ence
Nora. Sweet Prince, let me go no further to mine
anſwer: do you hear me, and let this Count kill me:
| have deceiv'd even your very eyes ; What your wiſ⸗
doms could not diſcover, theſe ſhallow fools have
brought to light, wo in the night overheard me con-
telling to this man, how Don Toh „your brother in-
cens'd me to ſlander the lady Hero, how you were
brought into the orchard, and faw me court Margaret
in Hero's garments, how you diſgrac'd her when you
mould marry her; my villany tley have upon record,
which I had rather ſeal with my death, than repeat
over to my ſhame ; the Lady is dead upon mine and
my maſter's falſe accuſation; and bricfly, I deſire no-
thing but the reward of a villain.
Pedro. Runs not this ſpeech like iron through your
blood;
Claud. J have drunk pciſon while he utter'd it.
Pero. But did my brother ſet thee on to this:
Pra. Vea, paid me richly for the practice of 1t,
Pero. He is compos'd and ſram'd ef treachery,
And fled he is upon this villany.
Claud. Sweet Hero ! now thy image doth appear
In the rare ſemblance that 1 lov'd it firſt.
Digb. Come bring away the plaintiffs, by this time
our {exton hath reform'd Signior Leonato of the mat-
rer; and maſters, do not forget to ipecthe, when tim
and place ſhall ſerv e, that J am an ais.
Jeg. Here, here comes maſter Signior Leonato, and
the ſexton too.
Enter Leonato.
Leon. Which is the villain? let me fee his eyes,
That when I note another man like him,
I may avoid him; which of theſe is he?
Bora. It you would know your wronger, look on me
Leon. Art thou, art thou the ſlave that with thy
breath |
Has kill'd mine innocent child?
Bora.
=
64 Moch Apo about NoTHING,
Pora. Yea, even I alone.
Leon. No, not io villain, thou bely'ſt thy ſelf ;
Here ſtand a pair of honourable men,
A third is fled that had a hand in it:
I thank you princes for my daughter's death;
Record it with your high and worthy deeds,
"Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.
Claud. I know not how to pray your patience,
Yet I mult ſpeak : chufe your revenge your felf,
Impoſe me to what penance your invention
Can lay upon my fin; yet ſinn'd I not,
But in miſtaking.
Pedro. By my ſoul nor I;
And yet to ſatisfie this good old man,
I would bend under any heavy weight
That he'll enjoin me to.
Leon. You cannot bid my daughter live again,
That were impoſſible ; but I pray you both
Poſſeſs the People in Meſina here
How innocent ſhe dy'd; and if your love
Can labour aught in fad invention,
Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb,
And ſing it to her bones, ſing it to-night :
To-morrow morning come you to my houſe,
And tince you could not be my ſon-in-law,
Be yet my nephew; my brother hath a daughter
Almoſt the copy of my child that's dead,
And ſhe alone 1s heir to both of us, |
Give her the right you ſhould have given her couſin,
And ſo dies my revenge.
Claud O noble Sir!
Your over-kindneſs doth wring tears from me:
J do embrace your offer, and diſpoſe
Fer henceforth of poor Claudio.
len To- morrow then 1 will expect your coming,
To-night I take my leave. This naughty man
Shall face to face be brought to Margaret,
Who I bclieve was pack'd in all this wrong,
Hir'd to it by your brother.
Lora. No, by my foul ſhe was not;
Nor knew not what ſhe did when ſhe ſpoke to me.
But
=
Much Apo about NoTHING. 65
But always hath been juſt and virtuous,
In any thing that I do know by her.
Dogb. Moreover, Sir, which indeed is not under
white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did
call me aſs; I beſeech you let it be remembred in
his puniſhment; and alſo the watch heard them talk of
one Deformed: they ſay he wears a key in his ear,
and a lock hanging by it, and borrows money in God's
name, the which he hath us'd ſo long, and never paid,
that now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend no-
thing for God's ſake. Pray you examine him upon
that point.
Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honeft pains.
Dogb. Your worſhip ſpeaks like a moſt thankful and
reverend youth ; and I praiſe God for you.
Leon. T here's for thy pains.
Dogb. God ſave the toundation.
Leon. Go, I diſcharge thee of thy priſoner; and I
thank thee.
Dogb. I leave an errant knave with you worſhip,
which 1 beſeech your worſhip t. correct your ſelf, for
the example of others. God hos your 3 I wiſh
your worſhip well: God reſtore you to liealth; I humbly
give you leave to depart; and if a merry meeting may
be wiſh'd, God prohibit it. Come neighbour.
[Excunt.
Leon. Until to-morrow morning, Lords farewel.
Ant. Farewel my Lords, we look for you to-morrow.
Pedro. We will not fail.
Claud. To- night 1'}] mourn with Hero.
Leon. Bring you theſe fellows on, we'll talk with
Margaret,
How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.
[Exeunt.
SCENE, Leonato's Houſe.
Enter Benedick and Margaret.
Bene. Pray thee, ſweet miftreſs Margaret, deſerve
well at my hands, by helping me to the ſpeech of
Beatrice.
Marg. Will you then write me a ſonnet in praiſe of
my beauty ? Bene.
a4
8 N 4-42» = 2 Hh, .
|
;
4
;
£
N.
66 MUch Apo about NOTHING.
Bene. In io high a ſtyle, Marg ar- , that na man
living ſtall come over it; for in moſt comely truth
thou deſerveſt it.
Marg. To have no man come over me ? hv, ſhal!
I always keep below itairs *
Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the grey hound“ mouth,
it catches.
Marg. And yours as blunt as the tencer”:
which hit, hut hurt not.
Bene. A moſt manly wit, Margaret, it will not hurt
a woman; and ſo ] pray thee call Peatrice: I give
thee the bucklers.
Marg. Give us the worde, we have backlers of our
own. b
Bene. If you uſe them, Margaret, you muſt put in
the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous Men-
pons for maids.
Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think
hath legs. Exit Margaret.
Bene. And therefore will come. [Sings] The God of
eve that fits above, and knows me, and tnogis me, Hua
pitiful J deſerve, I mean in ſinging ; but in loving,
Leander the good ſwimmer, Tro:/us the firſt employer
of pandars, and a whole book full of theſe guordars
carpet-mongers whoſe names yet run ſmoothly in the
even road of a blank verſe, why they were never ſo
truly turn'd over and over, as my poor felt in love;
marry I cannot ſhew it in rhime; I have try'd, I can
find out no rhime to /ady but Faq, an innocent's rhime z
for ſcorn, horn, a hard rhime ; for ſchool, fool, a bab-
ling rhime; very ominous endings ; no, I was not
born under a rhiming planet, for 1 cannot woo in feiti-
val terms.
Enter Beatrice.
Sweet Beatrice, would' it 1 come when I call thee ?
Beat. Yea Signior, and depart when you bid me.
Bene. O ſtay bat till then.
Beat. Then is ſpoken ; fare you well now; and yet
ere I go, let me go with that I came tor, which 1s,
with knowing what hath paſt between you and Claudio.
Bene. Only foul words, and thereupon I will Kits
thee, Beat.
ea
Le
As AA. ©. a A. 6
Much Abo avout NOTHING, 67
Brat. Foul words are but foul wind, and foul wind
tz but foul breath, and foul breath is noiſome; there-
tore I will depart unkiſs'd.
Bee. I non haſt frighted the word out of its right
tenſe, ſo torcible is thy wit; but I muit tell thee plain-
iv, C,/21dig undergocs my challenge, and either | mull
mordly near from him, or I will {ubicribe him a cow-
ard, and I pray thee now tell me, for which oi my
bad parts didit thou firit fall in love with me?
Reat. For them all together, which maintain'd io
politick a ſtate of evil, that they will not admit any
good part to intermingle with them: but for which
of my good parts did you firſt ſuffer love for me ?
Bene. Suffer love ! a good epithet ; I do ſuffer love
indeed, for J love thee againſt my will.
eat, In ſpight of your heart, I think; alas poor
heart, if you ſpight it for my ſake, I will ſpight it for
yours 3 for 1 will never love that which my friend
hates. .
Bene. Thou and J are too wiſe to woo peaceably.
Beat. It appears not in this confeſſion ; there's not
one wiſe man among twenty that will praiſe himſelf.
Bene. An old, an old inſtance, Beatrice, that liv'd
in the time of good neighbours ; if a man do not ere&
in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he ſhall live no
longer in monuments, than the bells ring, and the wi-
dow Weeps.
Beat. And how long is that, think you?
Bene. Queſtion? why an hour-in clamour, and a
quarter in rheum ; therefore it 1s moſt expedient for
the wile, if Don worm (his conſcience) find no 1mpe-
diment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own
virtues, as J am to my felf ; ſo much for praiſing my
elf; who I my felt will bear witne!s is praiſe-worthy ;
and now tell me how doth your couſin ?
Beat. Very ill.
Bene. And how do you?
Prat. Very ill too.
Enter Urſula.
Bene. Serve God, love me and mend ; there will I
leave you too, for here comes one in haſte.
Uhu.
r —
22 2 n, 1 rad -
.
os * * d — * 8 * C _
--
.
WIS
*
*
:
o
&Q
b
4
—
o
68 Moch Apo about NOTHING.
Ur/u. Madam, you muſt come to your uncle; yon-
ders's old coil at home; it is proved my Lady Hero hath
been falicly accus'd, the Prince and Claudio mightily
abus'd, and Don Job is the author of all, who is fled
and gone: will you come preſently ?
Beat. Will you go hear this news, Signior ?
Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and
be bury'd in thy eves; and moreover I will go wita
thee to thy uncle. [Exeunt.
SCENE, a Cavxcn.
Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants with
tapers.
Claud. Is this the monument of Leanato?
Atten. It is, my lord.
EP1TAPH.
Dane to death by flanderous tongues,
Was the H e, here lis :
Death, in gucrdon of her wrongs,
Gives her fame which never dies. 295
So the life that dy d with ſhame,
Lives in death with glorious fame.
Hang thou there upon the tomb,
Praifing her when I am dumb.
Claud. Now muſick ſound, and ſing your ſolemn
hymn.
ON.
Pardon, Goddeſs of the night,
Thoſe that flew the wirgin knight ;
For the which with fongs of woe,
Round about her tomb they go.
Midnight oft our mean,
Help us to ſigh and groax.
Heavily, heawily,
Graves yawn and yield your dead,
Jill death be uttered,
Heawvenh, heavenly.
wad. |
Much Apo about NorHI NG. 69
Claud. Now unto thy bones good night ;
Yearly will I do this rite.
Pedro. Good morrow maſters, put your torches out,
The wolves have prey'd ; and look the gentle day
Before the wheels of Phzbus, round about
Dapples the drowſie eaſt with ſpots of grey.
Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well.
Claud. Good morrow maſters ; each his ſeveral way.
Pedro. Come let us hence, and put on other weeds,
And then to Leanato's we will go.
Claud. And Hymen now with luckier iſſue ſpeeds
Than this, fer whom we render'd up this woe. [ Exeunt,
SCENE, Leonato's Houſe.
Enter Leonato, Benedick, Margaret, Urſula, Antonio,
Friar, and Hero.
Friar. Did I not tell you ſhe was innocent ?
Leon. So are the Prince and C/andio who accus'd her,
Upon the error that you heard debated.
But Margaret was in ſome fault for this;
Although againſt her will as it appears,
In the taue courſe of all the queſtion.
Ant. Well, I am glad that all things ſort ſo well.
Bene. And ſo am I, being elſe by faith enforc'd
To call youg Claudio to a reckoning for it.
Leon. Well daughter, and you gentlewomen all,
Withdraw into a chamber by your ſelves,
And when I ſend for you, come hither mask'd :
The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour
To viſit me: you know your office, brother,
You muſt be father to your brother's daughter,
And give her to young Claudio.
[ Exeunt Ladias.
Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd countenance.
Bene. Friar, I muſt intreat your pains, I think.
Friar. To do what, Signior ?
Bene. To bind me or undo me, one of them:
Signior Leonato, truth it is good Signior,
Your neice regards me with an eye of favour.
Ant. That eye my daughter lent her, tis moſt true.
Bene.
*
2
*
4
*
4
-0 Mucn Apo about NoTHINC.
Bene. And I do with an Eye of Love requite her.
Leon. The Sight whereot I think you had from me,
From Claudio and the Prince; but what's your will ?
Bene. Your Anſwer, Sir, is enigmatical;
But for my will, my will is, your good will
May ſtand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd
J'ch' itate of hcnourable Marriage,
In which, good Friar, I ſhall deſire your help.
Leon. My heart is with your liking. 0
Friar. And my help.
Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, with Attendants,
Pedro. Gocd morrow to this fair Aſſembly.
Leon. Good morrow Prince, good morrow Claudio,
We here attend you; are you yet determin'd
To-day to marry with my brother's daughter ?
Ciaud. VII hoid my mind, were ſhe an Erh:5pe
Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the Friar ready.
Pedro. Good morrow, Benedict; why what's the
matter,
That you have ſuch a February face, =
So full of froſt, of ſtorm, and cloudineſs?
Claud. 1 think he thinks upon the ſavage bui: :
'Tuſh, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold,
And fo all Fa- ope ſhall rejoice at thee,
As once Europa did at luſty Jave, |
When he would play the noble beaſt in love. F
Bene. Bull Forte, Sir, had an amiable low,
And ſome ſuch firange bull leap'd your father's cow, |
And got a calf in that ſame noble f feat,
Much like to you, for you have juſt his bleat.
Enter Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and Urſula.
Claud. Tor this J owe you; here come other reck-
nings. |
Winch is the lady I muſt ſeize upon? |
Lean. This fame is ſhe, and J do give you her. |
Claud. Why then ſhe's mins; ſweet, let me ſce your
lace. —
Leon. No, that you ſhall not, 'till you take her hand
Before this Friar, and ſwear to marry her.
Claud Give me your hand; before this holy Friar,
Jam vour husband, if you like of me.
Hero.
Moch Apo about NOTHING. 71
Hero. And when I liv'd I was your other Wife.
[ Unmasking,
And when you lov'd you were my other husband.
Claud. Another Hers ?
Hero. Nothing certainer.
One Her; dy'd, but Ido live;
And ag. as 1 live I am amaid.
Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead!
3 She dy'd, my lord, but whiles her ſlander liv'd.
Friar. All this Amazement can 1 = wk
M hen after that the holy rites are end
Fll tell thee ! largely. of fair Heros 3 |
Mean time let wonder ſeem familiar,
And to the chappel let us preſently.
Bene. Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice ?
Beat. I aniwer to that name, what is your will?
Bene Do not you love me ?
Beat. Why no; no more than reaſon.
Bene. Why then your uncle, and the prince, and
Claudio, have been deceiv'd, they iwore you did.
Beat. Do not you love me ?
Bene. Troth no, no more than reaſon.
Beat. Why, then my couſin, Margaret, and Ur/z/a,
Are much deceiv'd; for they did {wear you did.
Rene. They ſwore you were almoſt ſick tor me.
Beat. I hey {wore you were well-nigh dead for me.
Bene. Tis no matter, then you do not love me?
Beat. No truly, but in friendly recompence.
Leon. Come, coulin, J am ture you love the gentle-
man.
Claud. And I'll be ſworn upon't that he loves her,
For here's a paper written in his hand,
A haltng ſonnet of * own pure brain,
Faſhion'd to Beatric
Hero. And here's pa
Writ in my coufin's hand, itolen from her pocket,
Containing her affection Unto Beneaick.
Bene. A miracle! here's our own hands againſt our
hearts; come, I. wil: have thee, but by this light I take
thee for pity.
Beat.
7 - pa N ** 3 1 2 9 > — «4
— — RS Ss Gd nh
72 Moch Apo about NoTHING.
Beat. I would not deny you, but by this good day
I yield upon great perſuaſion, and partly to fave your
life; for as I was told, you were in a conſumption.
Leon. Peace, I will ſtop your mouth.
Pedro. How doſt thou, Benedict the married man?
Bene. I'll tell thee what, Prince; a college of wit-
crackers cannot flout me out of my humour: doſt
thou think I care for a ſatyr, er an epigram? no: if
a man will be beaten with brains, he ſhall wear no-
thing handſome about him. In brief, ſince I do pur-
poſe to marry, I will think nothing to any purpoſe
that the world can ſay againſt it; and therefore ne-
ver flout at me, for what I have ſaid againſt it; for
man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclufion ; for
thy part, Claudio, I did think te have beaten thee, but
in that thou art like to be my kinſman, live unbruis'd,
and love my couſin.
Claud. I had well hoped thou wouldſt have denied
Beatrice, that I might have cudgell'd thee out of thy
ſingle life, to make thee a double dealer, which out
of queſtion thou wilt be, if my couſin do not look ex-
ceeding narrowly to thee.
Bene. Come, eome, we are friends; let's have a
dance e er we are marry'd, that we may lighten our
own hearts, and our wives heels.
Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards.
Bene. Firſt, of my word; therefore play muſick.
Prince, thou art fad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife;
there is no ſtaff more reverend than one tipt with horn.
Enter Meſſenger. DNS:
Meß. My Lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight,
And brought with armed men back to Meſſina. ;
Bene. Think not on him till to-morrow, Ill deviſe
chee brave puniſhments for him. Strike up pipers.
| [Dance.
EF [Exeunt omnes.
F \
| | | . 4+
622
F T | N * N 5
7 o
2 wes. © : -
Live Music
Archive
Librivox
Free Audio
Metropolitan Museum
Cleveland
Museum of Art
Internet
Arcade
Console Living Room
Open Library
American
Libraries
TV News
Understanding
9/11